Couch 189: The Oxford Couch

I looked up the number online.

My mom makes these really awesome sugar cookies every Christmas. She makes enough to give a tin to a couple dozen extended family members and friends. But she hates actually making them.

So I was shocked to get a package of homemade sugar heart-shaped cookies from her today. I’m really touched, but now I’m worried she’s dying or something.

My mom makes these really awesome sugar cookies every Christmas. She makes enough to give a tin to a couple dozen extended family members and friends. But she hates actually making them.

So I was shocked to get a package of homemade sugar heart-shaped cookies from her today. I’m really touched, but now I’m worried she’s dying or something.

My mom makes these really awesome sugar cookies every Christmas. She makes enough to give a tin to a couple dozen extended family members and friends. But she hates actually making them.

So I was shocked to get a package of homemade sugar heart-shaped cookies from her today. I’m really touched, but now I’m worried she’s dying or something.

Thats "stuff real women do that i dont ergo ipso facto".

Clearly I've been listening to too many Greek myths podcasts. Last night, I dreamt I was being turned into a tree. My feet were rooted in the ground and my legs were starting to fuse and turn into the tree trunk. My friend was telling me that she's friends with Poseidon, so she'd beseech him to help me. She actually used the word "beseech," which I can't even imagine her saying in real life.

I was kind of on the fence, in the dream and when I woke. I think I'd like being a tree.

I just looked up images of olive trees, and darned if the trunks didn't look a lot like the one I was turning into. Which totally makes sense. I mean, what other tree would whichever Greek god I ticked off turn me into? (Or it just means my knowledge of tree species in Greece is very limited.)

Speaking of crying, a little embarrassed that I broke down crying when I started talking to T about his vacation (he leaves Saturday for about 10 days). He was really understanding and accepting though. I said I knew we'd had a conflict the first time he'd gone away, over a year ago, because he didn't seem to understand why i was sad that he was going away. He said today that at the time, we hadn't been seeing each other that long, and he hadn't felt we'd built up much of a relationship, so he was more puzzled that I'd miss him in particular. But now I've been seeing him a year and a half, plus see him twice a week, so he completely understands that I'll miss not just the therapeutic space, but him. He just seemed really compassionate about all of it. I started crying again as we said goodbye because he said he wanted to make sure I knew it was still OK to email, and he was just looking at me with so much caring. (Thankfully, the guy in the waiting room didn't look up as I walked out all teary-eyed.)

On a less weepy note, much of the session was lighter, and we did a fair amount of joking around--like saying he was actually going to prison for 10 days (I said I hoped he'd have fun--assuming was a fun trip--which led to him saying that), and I'd call and be like "What's that noise in the background?" and he'd say, "Oh, just the yard" (as in prison yard), and I was saying he'd come back with a gang tattoo. And various other things. So that was nice because it made me feel connected--and as I said, I ddin't want a heavy session. T: "You didn't want me to leave you with a big ball of trauma to carry around the next week?" Me: "Yeah, not so much!"