Yes, it's also amazing how I rationally know so many things, but the way I feel about them is radically different. For example, rationally I know that just because I told (wrote) him that I wanted him to hug me does not mean that at the precise moment the session is over, he is going to jump up and throw his arms around me. Inside, however, I am hurting bad. Like I have already been rejected.

You are pretty brave to email your T about jumping him, lol. Sometimes I cannot believe myself and what I do either. Like giving him that poem in which I directly wrote "You are probably %#@&#! your wife." What was I thinking? If he ever, EVER brought that up, I would go out the window. Or maybe I will choose your idea, which is a little safer..."I have no idea what you are talking about." Then he will pull out the poem and show me.... I would say, "Hmmm... this is not mine. It must have accidentally gotten mixed in from someone else's work from my writing workshop." lol.

I asked him if we could have therapy from now on via email because I can't bear to look at him.

Actually we don't have email correspondence. I'm glad for that. Who knows what I would say. I tend to lose all censorship when I write.

Interesting what you said about pushing disclosure of things you can't face. I knew I brought that note for a reason. And the reason was because I wanted him to read it. He directly asked me when he was holding it, "Did you want me to see this?" We both already knew the answer. I think that anytime you disclose something shameful... whether it is verbal, by email, on paper... it is because in some way, your unconscious was ready to let it go. Consciously, you might not be ready to deal with it yet. The disconnect there is of no one's fault. Everything in therapy has two parts-- the experience and the process. Sometimes the two have to occur at distinctly different times. Today I dealt with merely the experience of the disclosure... the experience of the in-the-moment emotion in reponse to doing it... but I did not process it. It was more of an acknowledgement. Perhaps Friday I will deal with processing not only what was on the paper, but what it meant to open up like that.