T yesterday. Went back and sat down, as he said, "It's a nice day out!" I replied, "Do you mean that seriously or sarcastically?" He said he thought it was nice. I agreed (I think I'm just used to his sarcastic comments about our weather lately!). I said it was, which was good because I was going to an outdoor concert that night. I mentioned how I was meeting my friend there (had originally planned to go alone), how I'd been finalizing plans with her via text in waiting room, that we were both looking forward to it. T: "Marvelous."

I said I guessed we should figure out what to talk about. T said I'd brought up in last session what my friend had said about our therapeutic relationship. Did I want to talk about that any more? I said I was mostly good on that, had talked briefly to that friend, but nothing about therapy beyond "I had a good session." PC came up, and I started to mention a poster on here, then was like, "I shouldn't use names." T: "I can 1,000% guarantee I will never look on Psych Central." Me: "OK, thanks. I mean you might find it to be very enlightening. Or it could be really frightening to you, seeing all those people discussing therapy." T: "I'm not going to take that chance." Me: "Probably a good call."

I said maybe we should discuss more childhood stuff, since he'd said before he wanted to have a better sense of my childhood. He said yes, how that would help him understand how my mom affects me more. I forget how we got on this, but he mentioned how kinds will generally rebel and push limits. Not just teens, but younger kids, too. Me: "So...like what my D is doing right now?" T: "Probably." He asked what sorts of things I'd done to push those limits. I shared a really lame story about being a teen and intending to go to a R-rated movie with a friend in the city, then getting to theater, getting freaked out, and heading back to the suburbs to see a PG-rated movie. T was amused.

I said I was trying to think of stuff from earlier in childhood. I sat there a couple minutes. I said, "I honestly can't think of anything. I mean, I mostly just hung out in the house and read and played. Like I saw friends and things, but I don't think I really pushed any limits with anyone. I was generally just...compliant." T: "Maybe you found that was what worked for you, following the rules. It got you something." Me: "Yes, acceptance. Like I did well in school, got positive response."I was kind of the 'good grandkid' too, not that there was a whole lot of competition. Like my grandmother's favorite." T asked about that more. I mentioned spending nights there, hanging out with my grandmother and her friends, playing Tripoley (for pennies). T smiled and said that sounded like a nice memory. I said yes, though I suppose she could have set me up for a gambling habit! I mentioned watching "Golden Girls" with her, too, which also made him smile.

Me: "Something just came into my head. When I was struggling with the separation anxiety, like right after my mom had cancer, they dropped me at my grandmother's. I really didn't want them to leave and tried to run after them. But my grandmother held on tightly to my wrists

Like I didn't feel accepted by her then. Even if she was doing it for my own good. I have no recollection at all of what happened that evening, if I had fun, if I spent the night." T: "So just that particular moment stuck in your mind?" Me: "Yes. Just that moment. It's kind of like the couple times I was clinging on to my parents' car at school and they were starting to drive away. I have no memory of what happened later at school."

I forget what else we said about that. I brought up something that had plagued me since early childhood. How as far back as I could remember, I had feared throwing up or seeing other people getting sick. How if I saw someone get sick in school (or elsewhere), I would have flashbacks to it, keep replaying it in my mind, maybe almost like PTSD. T said that's an anxiety thing, playing something again and again in your mind like that. He described it a bit more, but I forget what all he said. One part was how if someone had contamination fears (which I also have), then they might keep replaying touching a banister, worried they'd catch something from germs on it. I asked if it could be an OCD thing, and he said more anxiety because just thoughts (which...I know there's some overlap and there can be pure O OCD). I said but what if I did things like wash my hands frequently and avoid sick people because of it? He said then could be OCD.

I mentioned I still struggle with the issue, the emetophobia. Like when H and I were first living together, and he got sick in the night, and I tore off down the stairs, rather than making sure he was OK. I was like, "Yeah, I was being nice and nurturing there." T laughed. I said I used to not think it was very common and would never mention it but have read more about it and learned it's not as uncommon as I'd thought. How I'd been relieved to learn some friends had it, too.

T said yes, it is pretty common, that he can think of at least 5 clients he's had in the past 10 years with it, to different degrees. Like one always wore gloves to avoid germs. Another wouldn't eat chicken for fear of salmonella, but that didn't hugely interfere with their life. I said I also didn't eat chicken but it's because I'm vegetarian--though maybe that played some role in my becoming vegetarian. T: "Have you gone back to eating romaine lettuce yet?" (referring to recent big outbreak in the U.S. of E. coli from it--the really bad strain that can lead to kidney failure.) Me: "No, but more because it's such a dangerous strain."

T talked about natural aversion to those sorts of things, how certain smells innately disgust us, and it's intentional because it's to keep us from getting sick. He went on to list a few such scents. Then: "Why am I talking about this exactly?" Me: "Well, it kind of tied in." I said I'd heard that's also part of why sense of smell is so strong during pregnancy, as a protective thing, and T said he'd heard that, too.

I glanced at the clock and saw we had maybe 7 minutes left. Me: "There was something kinda related I was going to bring up...but we're almost out of time, I don't want to bring it up now. Because it's an awkward thing to discuss." T: "That's fine, you can just think about it, bring it up Monday if you want. And you don't have to tell me if you don't want." Me: "OK, I'll think about it."

I said I guessed we'd veered a bit off of topic of my childhood, but actually not too much. T: "I think this has given me a better sense of what you were dealing with." Me: "OK. The thing is, on the outside, I probably seemed normal. But there was all this stuff going on inside that I hid." T said for some reason he was amused by my "I probably seem normal on the outside" comment. I said, laughing a little, that I guessed it was kind of a funny way to say it, especially because maybe I don't actually seem normal on the outside. He said I seemed normal enough to him (or something like that). I thanked him, but then said he might not be the best judge of that (or something like that, I forget).

Confirmed Monday, scheduled for Thursday. Paid, shook hands as he said, "Have a good weekend!" Me: "You, too!" T: "Oh, and have fun at the concert!" Me: "Thanks!"

Got on elevator and went downstairs. There's a coffee shop on the ground floor, which had recently added seating outside for the summer. As I was walking out the door, I noticed ex-MC sitting with another T from his office outside (their office is across the street). I panicked, turned, and walked quickly in the opposite direction, taking a very circuitous route to my car (no idea if he saw me). I guess it was lucky because the session before, I'd parked in a spot right in front of that table! (Guess I would have just had to hide somewhere till they left in that case...)

Shortly after I got home, I ended up e-mailing T what I'd wanted to tell him at end of session (it's a personal thing I'm not going into here, but it has nothing whatsoever to do with T, transference, anything like that). I had realized (and said this in the e-mail) that it would probably take me a whole session to get it out, and I know I could type it up and hand it to him, but the thought of sitting there while he read this and waiting for his reaction was excruciating. That I wasn't asking for a long response, just wanted to share a thing or two that we could discuss Monday. And that it might be nice if he said "I don't think you're a freak, LT," but I also knew he'd be honest with me, so I supposed I was taking a risk.

I didn't say this to him, but I intentionally sent the e-mail shortly before I was leaving for the concert, figuring I'd be occupied with that and seeing my friend (which I was!) instead of checking my e-mail. He wrote back while I was there, though I didn't see it until a couple hours later, saying, "Hi LT--I can understand why it would be tough to share this in person - and no, I don't think you're 'bizarre' and yes, this will be something worth talking about. See you next week!" Which was pretty much exactly the response I was hoping for. (Note that I'd also used the word "bizarre" to describe my fear of what he'd think of me in the e-mail, so he was actually quoting me.)