In Session Today: Part VI

It's been an interesting week in therapy so far, so I jotted down a recap (of session #1, at least):

I arrived for my first session of the week with plenty of time to spare, but somehow still felt rushed when my therapist opened his office door. I walked in, sat down, handed him a check for last month’s bill, and then… silence.

A mix of frantically thinking about what to say and wondering how he’d respond if I stayed silent went through my head--we’d had a conversation last week about how he often felt conflicted on whether to intervene when I stayed silent for long periods of time, how he didn’t want to interrupt my own natural process of seeing what turned up and what might emerge if I waited to speak, but also sometimes felt like he needed to say something in order to offer me something to grab hold of. I wasn’t sure whether this time I wanted him to intervene or not, but I felt hyperaware of the fact that he must be weighing the pros and cons, and maybe a little disappointed when he did come out and ask, “How are you feeling?”

I looked up at him and made eye contact briefly, then turned away as much as possible in my chair. “I feel like a mess. Not for any real reason--things are going well--but I feel like a complete mess. I was anxious about everything I did over the weekend, and then the aftermath was pretty brutal.”

He starts asking questions and I unpack my experiences over the weekend one by one. A stressful work situation, stressful social situations including one with some difficult family members, another challenging work situation. One by one, he points out the ways some of these specific things push my buttons. The way the family members’ behavior reminds me of an abusive childhood, the way the work situations hearken back to a complicated recent experience, the way this specific social situation represents something I’m both eager and terrified to experience. He’s right, and I find myself nodding over and over again as I slump down in the chair, not sure if I’m getting more comfortable or just more exhausted as the session moves forward.

I suddenly remember that amidst all of this, I haven’t mentioned that Saturday was the anniversary of someone close to me dying. So I tell him, and his immediate response, “Oh my goodness, oh GOSH” sounds ridiculous to me, and I look up and raise an eyebrow. He cocks his head and shrugs. “Well. I guess what I meant was that it sounds like that was a lot to deal with on top of everything else. It’s no wonder you were anxious and having a tough time.” I crumple into myself again, and start wondering how far along we are in the session, and whether if I suddenly started sobbing now I’d have enough time to put myself back together before having to leave.

I see him check the clock, and I wonder if he’s wondering the same thing.

A conversation I had the previous week pops into my head, so I start talking about that instead. I had lunch with an old friend who was visiting the area for a few days, and told him for the first time about a particularly difficult aspect of my childhood that I’m normally very private about. My therapist remarks on that, how unusual it is for me to share that detail with anyone, and asks what it was like. “It felt great, and also like skinning myself alive.” He nods, leans forward, makes some empathetic noises. Then asks how it feels to talk about this with him, and I laugh and turn away.

I start describing another of the weekend’s events again, and specifically what it felt like when the party ended. How intensely terrible I felt on my way home, how suddenly and abruptly my mind made the switch from enjoying myself to self-loathing. He remarks on how my description sounds like other times this has happened, but that there’s also a way I’ve described it that’s very different than usual. We talk about that for a few minutes, and I suddenly feel the need to reassure him that I’m fine. He doesn’t say anything in response. I go back to describing how I felt earlier.

He checks the clock again. “We have to stop in a minute, but I’m wondering if you would want to come back sooner than your usual appointment. That’s a couple of days from now, and it seems like it might be useful for you to continue this particular conversation sooner.” I’m kind of puzzled, and look up at him to see what his expression is like. He looks neutral as he asks again, “Is that something you’d be interested in, if the scheduling works?” I nod, then shake my head and narrow my eyes at him, saying “Yes, I would. But you know I’m fine, right? I’m fine, you don’t need to worry about me.” He says yes, he knows I’m okay, but thinks it might be productive to add an extra session if we can, that it might make it possible to go into this issue in more depth than we could otherwise.

I pull out my phone and start looking at my calendar, and he does the same. We find a time the next day. I hesitate but ultimately say yes, relieved and a little weirded out at the same time. I start picking up my coat, and say “See you tomorrow. “ He repeats it back, with a polite smile. I rush out of the office, even though I don’t have any real reason to hurry, thinking about what might happen when I come back the next day.