When I arrived, my body was afraid although my mind and heart knew everything would be all right. Why does the body act like a frightened two-year-old who won’t believe even a trusted parent to tell him there’s nothing to be scared of? I talked about this to T.

Me: I think a very primitive part of me is afraid he’s going to be punished.

T: What for?

Me: For sending you that email saying that I felt abandoned. It was only one email, and I didn’t accuse you of anything or say I hate you. It was all very civilised. It is irrational to imagine I would be punished for that.

T: So what, irrationally, did you feel?

Me: Because we skipped a session I felt, irrationally, that you had abandoned me. I blamed you and was angry with you.

T: I like it when you are clear with me like that.

Me: But even though I knew it was irrational, those feelings bled into my other relationships. I was hypersensitive to rejection, and even though I knew that, it did nothing to reduce the feelings. I felt that others rejected me and I overreacted to that.

T: You’d rather not have feelings?

Me: Sometimes feelings are appropriate. There are rational fears. There are times when it makes sense to be angry. There are situations where any sane person would be sad. But there are also exaggerated feelings, out of all proportion to the stimulus. And I would be free of those if I could.

I don’t recall how T responded to that. Probably I wasn’t ready to accept it.