Before this session, I had been feeling that after this, I wasn't going to see T for a few weeks. I was really busy, so was he. We're both going out of town. I would just not come for a few weeks. I am not sure why I was feeling this way. But then I get to therapy and everything changes.

The last few sessions have been intense, with me dumping a lot of emotion--anger, hurt, pain, sorrow--in the room. My session this week was more of that, but without the anger. Emotional conversations. Tears. I remember after last session I was afraid he was angry at me because I had dropped anger in his room, and not been the most pleasant to be around. Clearly, he had no problem with that! The problem was all mine (years of not being allowed to be angry). He thought it was healthy and a part of grieving.

When I reflect on therapy, it seems such an odd job. It also seems that it takes a long time to get to the point where you can use your therapist even halfway fully. It's not this way for me everytime, even when we connect deeply, but today I felt I was able to make close to full use of my T. Yes, it is an odd job to sit there and travel with the client through pain, anger, and hurt and hold them all successfully and be fully present and supportive. It's also very strange that the client can learn to do that in the space of an hour a week. (Like a performing seal? Or is it just association? I associate him and his space with being able to be open, and so as soon as I am with him, I am that way. ??? At least sometimes.)

T said I am doing grief work. He said the last few sessions I have made a lot of progress and am moving through my grief. I know he thinks this is good. He said these feelings are coming right from my core. I do feel there's a wound I can sometimes open when I am with him, and allow him see straight in. In the sessions right before these last few intense ones, T said he had noticed I was resting and not really working. (I'm thinking, oh, he noticed! And I remembered his comment one time, "we haven't done much psychotherapy today." I am grateful for his patience and not forcing me to go too fast or move down avenues I was not ready to explore.) He said, "I am with you through your grief. Every step. I'm here." That made me feel so "not alone," which was tremendously reassuring. If I were an amoeba, I think I would engulf him, and his warmth and strength--just take them right into me. (Thank goodness I'm not, as I can imagine that might be scary. )

So much for my intent coming into the session--I am going to have a session next week after all. When there's movement, stay with it.