It seems like for me that going to therapy is all about the relationship.  I've read about the importance of the relationship and I totally get that and agree but it feels like I get the most 'fed' when we talk about how I feel about 'us' and how she feels.  And I'm a little embarrassed and concerned about that.

I logically know it's a paid relationship but it's one thing to pay for their input, experience....etc and it's another to actually pay for the intimacy.

I texted Celia yesterday cause I didn't get enough on Wednesday with her.  It helped, sort of.  It's good to know that she's there and will answer.

For the record, not 'hunching over' and having more eye contact does not, or did not mean more internalizing. Even though it was a 'nice' session i certainly didn't, and don't feel that sense of being 'fed', that feeling like I really connected to her.   In fact I feel pretty alone and sad.

We talked about me coming in and just 'simply' saying whats on my mind.  No filter, no pause, no judgement, no 'prettying it up'.  I can't imagine that.

I'm fairly certain she should be ok with me texting her but I'm trying to hold back on that.  Hoping that I can distract myself enough where I don't need to contact her.

I feel better after seeing Celia yesterday, even though it was only a 50 minute session.  I told her about being very anxious last week and it was driven by fear/or looking forward to seeing her in town, at my shop.  She quickly understood and even felt bad for not realizing this and talking it through before.

Been feeling/thinking that maybe I can never resolve my attachment issues.  I'm just going round and round.  Different person, same ending.

Still feeling pretty down, maybe it's just a funk? Low energy, not wanting to exercise, not wanting to talk much to people.  Withdrawn from my wife, even struggle a bit talking with my daughter.  I keep hoping it passes.

Celia has said a few times, including last session that Li loved me.  I wonder what Celia thinks about that.  Maybe I'll ask her on Monday.  I keep looking for maternal love.  Was so sure, or at least wanted to be sure that I found it with Li.  She was so different, or at least the experience was so different for me.  She was warm, and open, and accepting.  She really would  involved in my life.  I wonder if Celia thinks Li was too much.  I know she didn't like that Li wasn't consistent, and would certainly bend the therapeutic-framework rules.

I wonder what Celia thinks of me, how she feels about me. She did tell me that I was her first concern when she found out she had to have a colectomy. She thought of me her husband, her kids, friends...etc.

I feel like that maybe Celia started out at a professional arms-length from me, but then sometimes that changes a bit.

Is 'love' in therapy possible?  Healthy?  Sustainable? Necessary? Overrated?

Fuck...

I hate being on this path again.  So far it has yet to end well.  Maybe I need a backup plan? Interesting. I've never thought of thought.  Yet in my work life, at least when I worked in IT and/or project management I always had a Plan B.

I do wish I could see her today, our normal Wednesday appointment.  But I am happy to know that she'll be home later today. There is some comfort in knowing she'll be back in the area again.  Heck, I may even see her at the shop.

How do I know if she's the right one?  How do I know I can trust her? She pretty much says all the right things.  She seems to 'get' the intensity of my attachment-like issues.  She appears to take them extremely seriously and she appears to take our work together seriously too, especially her role in it.

But I think some of my concern is that she's not Li. Li, to me, exuded warmth, and very touchy feely, she hugged.  Not that Celia is cold, not at all, but she's made it  very clear that she's not a hugger. Funny I would never classify myself as a hugger, but I liked/loved when Li would hug me.

Do you know what is consistently the hardest part about going to counseling/therapy. The hardest is not the coming, its the leaving. It's the in between from week to week.
When Claire was pregnant and gone for a few months, when she called and I jumped at the chance to go back and see her, she never asked how it was for me. How did I survive those three months? And I never told her.
I didn't have words for it with Claire.  I didn't even know I was supposed to have words. Most things I figure I shouldn't have words for.