When I first started therapy, I looked at the rug, or at his shoes. I knew every crease on every pair of shoes he wore. But never did I look at him.

Later, when we went deeper, I closed my eyes a lot, because I could see him better with my eyes closed.

Now I know him so well and am so comfortable with him that I mostly look at him because I can see him just as well with my eyes open.

When I'm upset and trying to distance myself, or when I'm angry, I look out his window. And those few times when I've told him something that made me not want him to see me, I've been known to let my hair fall across my face, or slide my chin into my shirt, or put my hands over my face, or even on one occasion to bury my head on my lap. That didn't work out too well since he couldn't hear what I said into my legs and I had to repeat it.