Toward the end of my last session my T remarked, not for the first time, that I don't seem to really let loose with my anger in therapy. I don't rant and rave like she thinks I should. I mean, she left implicit what she thinks I “should” do because it's not her way to drop a lot of shoulds. But I got the impression that at very least she kinda wishes I'd more just go in and spill rather than try to give a fair and true account of whatever I'm talking about. She asked whether I think I hold back and if so, why?

We had exactly a minute left. What popped into my mind that I didn't say—because as mentioned, I'm not very blurty—was “because you won't even make me tea!”

I'm not exactly sure WTF that even means. But I told her I could probably answer her question sometime when we had more than a minute left. She seemed genuinely curious, intrigued even. I should leave session with a cliffhanger more often.

I've mentioned the tea thing precisely three times in 7 years. Twice in session and once in an email. Basically she often makes herself tea and never makes me any and became A Thing for me. It is absolutely agonizing for me to bring up. Honestly, I've gotten to a place where talking about rape or cutting is pleasant chitchat by comparison.

The fantasy of her handing me a cup of tea is a concrete symbol of something big for me and I’m not totally sure what. Her care? Acceptance? Her not rejecting my attachment? Her not holding me at arm’s length? Tea seems like a safe and appropriate enough surrogate for all the other types of mothering and care I really could have used (or could currently use) that she absolutely cannot appropriately give me. Which is to say tea is not a lot to ask of her but simultaneously, it's everything.

I generally already do feel quite accepted and cared about. I don't know if I feel cared for though. There is a kind of arm’s length thing going on where she totally promises that she's comfortable and not grossed out by the attachment thing but, and this could be my imagination, it feels like she avoids it. I mean I certainly avoid the **** out of it, so that's not even a question, but it feels like she helps me avoid it?

Like I bring it up and say, um, help, there’s this yawning chasm of need at my very core and it's basically the central struggle of my existence? And she's like, uh huh, and issues a gentle normalizing statement + variation of “you're not a gross person.” But I’m starting to despair that she’ll ever help me talk about this, she says she’ll get back to me about this stuff and doesn't, and she doesn't adequately recognize the monumental risk I’ve taken in bringing it up in the first place. I feel nauseated, weak and sweaty just talking about it.

Anyway, to return to the original question: unrestrained venting. Not necessarily the hugest emotional risk, the actual topic of the would-be rant is often pretty low-stakes, familiar territory. But that total warmth and familiarity? The gut level sense of safety that allows for talk now, think later? I'm often not there. And she hasn't made me tea. She hasn't met me at that level yet.