Goldfish, that was great – thanks! I’m in rambling mode myself, so no need to apologize. What you said really struck a chord.

The other times I’ve felt that subtle withdrawal have been different. It’s only happened a few times and has blown over quickly. He opens the door and I can tell in the way he holds his body and arranges his face that something’s a bit off. Then there’s a bit of distance (or just less ‘warmth and fuzziness’) during the session. It doesn’t seem to be related to any of the content. It hurts a bit, but I don’t take it personally. He’s usually very present and engaged, which I admire and appreciate, but not even a saint could keep that up hour after hour, year in and year out. So I don’t find it problematic.

This is why I’m wondering if I’m feeling so dramatic about the perceived distance this time because I’m in a depressive trough. The depression is cyclical with me, and maybe those other ‘distances’ have occurred at times when I haven’t been so depressed, so they don't seem so hurtful.

About the curiosity thing: the week before, I’d been talking about a unique experience I’d had and how I didn’t feel anyone could understand what that was like. He said that actually he could understand because he’d had the same experience.

I stewed about that all week. I perceived him as having snapped at me, which he’s never done before. I also thought that what was behind his words was a criticism of me not caring enough about him to ask him questions like ‘Have you ever done that?’ And I felt that that was unfair, because for two years I’ve felt proud of my restraint in asking him questions about himself, when really I’m quite curious about him and under more normal circumstances am the one to ask all the questions in a relationship rather than disclose. I assumed that questions about himself would make him uncomfortable and also that they weren’t relevant to the work.

That’s how I started the conversation. He said he hadn’t meant to snap, but had just been trying to say that he could sympathize. (Reasonable enough.) But then the conversation veered into a sort of pat discussion of clients’ curiosity rather than about what I thought was the more important part of that disclosure: that I was worried about him thinking I didn’t care about him because all I did was talk about myself.

As for winter – this was quite revealing: I love winter. I love that everything’s frozen and pure. I abhor spring. I’m seriously stressed by the tender shoots and fragile babies and the changeful weather. So maybe I like to keep things frozen as they are (=death/depression) with my therapist and don’t appreciate being pushed into something new (=life). But I’m glad this spring is bringing good changes for you!