When I went into session today, I knew I wanted to discuss the threatening feelings around the relationship I have with my therapist, but I also knew it would be challenging to feel that extraordinarily vulnerable.

As with most difficult topics, I thought using the Zooey situation as a medium to communicate about our relationship would suffice for now. So I chose to share an email I’d written to Zooey last July; an email that I’d describe as one of the most shameful things I’ve ever written.

As a preface, Zooey and I had been having a conversation in session about boundaries and the nature of our relationship. I told her I was concerned that the relationship had become “unhealthy” and that I was struggling with the inconsistencies in regards to out-of-session contact. I wasn’t sure what I felt or thought, but I wanted to talk with her about it.

She responded by saying. “I don’t normally text or email with clients. It’s not that you’re special, I just think that works well for you.”

Seems innocuous enough, right? But it devastated me.

Here is that email, written and sent within 40 minutes after session had ended. In fact, I was so upset that I called my wife right afterwards, then hung up and drafted this email from my iPhone while sitting on a stoop at a realty office on Broadway. That is how strong my reaction was.

I was terrified out of my mind to share this, but I did. And now I’ll share it here:


The first thing I did when I left your office today was pull out my journal and write this quote down:

“Well I don’t normally text and e-mail with people. It’s not that you’re special or I like you better, but…”

Thanks, Zooey. Thank you so very much for the reminder that I am in fact not special. The decades of various forms of neglect, abuse, and torture we’ve endured had not made that quite apparent enough.

And here’s the thing: I know that as a therapist, you’re not supposed to play favorites or become over-invested in us or our treatment. I know that it’s important to have boundaries in order to keep the relationship therapeutic. So if you did feel that perhaps I am a special client that you particularly enjoy working with, it would be inappropriate for you to share that with me. Fine.

But to go out of your way to preface a statement by emphasizing that you do NOT think I am special, nor do you like me better was just…..I mean, what the actual fuck? That was so hurtful.

The fascinating part of all of this is that you made that statement on the final day of a month where we had fourteen sessions. We’d been in contact nearly every day (or at least someone had). You sought out a new supervisor to help with my case. You’ve called us at night and texted back when we were upset. You’ve been coordinating with Wife to help us. You stayed late at the hospital and were late to your personal plans to make sure we were safe. You got this workbook to help move forward with therapy with various alters. You’ve gone out of your way to make sure we get attentive and effective treatment. That feels special to me.

As clients, I think we all want to feel and believe we’re special….that our therapist loves and cares about us and secretly prefers us to other more boring or difficult clients. That’s our fantasy to do what we will with. For me, I struggle so much with accepting even basic compassion and care from you (or anyone, really). It has been a challenge to not counter every good interaction we have with an internal follow-up to remind myself that I’m just another client and you’re just doing your job and that you don’t actually care. Sometimes I tell myself that you really do care and maybe even do feel a little more invested in my treatment because I’m intelligent and interesting and generally cooperative and articulate. Whether that’s true or not is irrelevant – it helps me feel more worthy of treatment and it makes it a little more okay that sometimes we need a lot of extra treatment.

But now you’ve taken that from me. And that really fucking sucks.

Especially because earlier today I tried, but couldn’t find any words, to express how much I love you. Perhaps I could have just said the words themselves, but that felt both too raw and potentially inappropriate.

But I do love you. I love you so much it overwhelms me. The time in between talking or seeing you can feel excruciating. It’s hard to remember if you’re even real when I’m not directly communicating with you. Weekends are especially challenging because the time between Thursday and Monday feels eternal and I’m always convinced that by Monday afternoon, you’ll have forgotten about us or stopped caring altogether. If we (well, some of us) could text you every single day just to reassure ourselves that you’re alive and that you remember us, we would.

And THAT is what I meant today by “unhealthy.” I feel as though I shouldn’t feel as attached and invested in you as I do. It feels like I’m doing something wrong…like there is something perverse or damaging about the bond we share. I haven’t exactly had a model for what it means to have a healthy relationship with someone in a position of authority and responsibility. Most of my relationships have ended up perverted and damaged.

I know this isn’t the case. You didn’t neglect or abuse me. But you did hurt me. Us. I can’t believe you would say such a thing. I just can’t figure it out or make sense out of it. I mean, honestly: why?? What was the point?! People don’t just randomly say shit like that!

I can’t read your mind, so obviously I’d eventually like to hear your reasoning behind whatever the hell that even was. But I don’t want to come in next week. I think I just need a break. This week has been so traumatic and now you’ve hurt me in a way that feels unbearable. I know that’s dramatic and you’re probably going to pin this all on my own transference, but whatever. You play a part in this relationship, too. No matter what you say, I know it’s not all just about me and my needs and what I get out of it. Relationships don’t work like that, even therapeutic ones.

So I think after I get back from vacation might be a good time to resume sessions. I don’t know. I need to think about this a lot more. Maybe it’s time for us to just move on altogether.

Either way, one of us will let you know.

Until then, we’ll be replaying your quote over and over on a loop in our head….Thanks so much for that.

Her response, 90 minutes later:

I am sorry for my poor choice of words, and I am sorry that I hurt you. I hope to see you on Monday so we can talk about this more.

You can probably guess that I went to that Monday session, but nothing was resolved. We didn’t really address the comment she made. She did say, “Andi, you must know you’re special. Your willingness to be vulnerable, your self-awareness and ability to articulate yourself is unparalleled. You must know that about yourself.” (I mean, yes and no?). We also never made it back around to have a conversation about the potentially unhealthy nature of our relationship or my endless confusion over boundaries.
Because, like most things in my time with her, we never really talked about anything.

What Is Enough?

I had class from 10-4 today. During my break, I checked my phone to see that I had a missed call and subsequent voicemail from the therapist. I panicked as a thousand things went through my mind:

Is she moving my sessions? Is she canceling my sessions? Is she moving or canceling one session? Will she reschedule it? Is she going to be out of the office unexpectedly? Is she going to be out of the office indefinitely?! Has she decided that she doesn’t want to do three sessions a week? Did she change her mind about everything and now she doesn’t want to see me at all? Is she sick? Is she dying? Did she already die and now someone is calling me from her phone to tell me that???

Seriously. What the fuck is wrong with me?! First of all, why did I assume death? And secondly, I hardly think someone would notify me that quickly if she did die. But I hope someone would notify me…Anyway. The point is, my brain immediately went to the worst-case scenarios. Before I could even finish unlocking my phone to LISTEN to the damn voicemail, I was assuming that she was calling to give me some terrible news.

She wasn’t. She just wanted to know if I could do an earlier session time tomorrow. But I can’t, so I called her back and I told her as much. I added that if the time we agreed on didn’t work, she could call again and we could try to figure something else out. But then I felt really stupid for saying that because it makes me seem so needy. We JUST changed sessions to three times a week. What would be the big deal if we only had two this week? That’s what the plan had been 24 hours ago anyway.

She called back (again, while I was in class) and said that she was able to figure something out so the time we’d originally agreed on would work after all. Well, okay. That’s good, right?

Sure. But I still feel like shit. And I’m still panicking. Because if it’s not this phone call then it will be another call or another voicemail or another conversation at another time. I know it. And I’m just waiting for it to all come crashing down. I’m waiting for her to realize that this is all so much more than she bargained for.

She said to me once that perhaps the issue is not that I am “too much”, but that the individuals helping me were not enough. She said that people tend to stop being “needy” when their needs are actually met. I suppose her argument is that if someone hears you screaming for help and then actually HELPS you, you can finally stop screaming for help.

But what is enough? How can I know what that is? And what if she’s wrong? What if there is not a finite amount of time or space or support that will be able to contain all of this chaos and intensity? What if I add this time and ask her to sit with all of this shit for an entire extra hour per week and it is still not enough?

What will I do then? Or perhaps more importantly: what will she do then?


Yesterday’s session was kind of weird. I wanted to reschedule Friday sessions for reasons I’ll describe in a bit. I’ve had to change sessions before and each time, it somehow managed to be super awkward and trigger some sort of therapeutic impasse. Despite how much effort I put into not being weird yesterday, I somehow managed to do just that. Yet again.

The reason I wanted to reschedule is because our laboratory supervisor was not impressed when I strolled in 90 minutes late for open lab last Friday. I’ve already mentioned this on here before: it’s supposed to be voluntary extra time to practice lab skills, but for some reason, the lab guy takes it incredibly personal if you don’t spend all 7.5 hours there every single Friday.

When I walked in late last week, he said, “Busy morning, Andi?” I replied, “No. I have an appointment every Friday morning, as I’ve mentioned before.” Which clearly did not appease him and instead prompted him to go on a rant about “priorities” and “time management”, embarrassing me in front of the entire class. No bueno.

Honestly, I don’t need the lab time (as is pretty obvious from my academic performance), but I also definitely don’t need public humiliation on a weekly basis. There are only four open labs left in the semester, so I decided I’d rather just reschedule therapy than potentially go to battle with this dude every time I’m “late”.

I told the therapist this story as a preface to requesting that we change our Friday sessions. She started to look at her calendar for other possible session times when I added in that if we couldn’t reschedule, perhaps we could just “let it go for now.”

She stopped mid-movement and asked, “Well what do you want to do?” 

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I’d made a list of things I wanted to cover in during session yesterday morning. It wasn’t a long list, but each item on it was very important to get through before I left the city. I barely slept on Thursday night, so I opened the session by saying, “I am so exhausted right now. I only slept about four hours last night because I am so anxious about this trip and dealing with everyone’s specific worries and fears over traveling home.” She asked what people were worried abut and I realized she thought I meant outside people, so I quickly said, “Oh…I meant internally.” 

She asked what the various parts were anxious about and I started to answer, but then she suddenly changed topics and said, “Well, speaking of – we said last time that we’d talk about you being away from here for a week, so we should do that.” Which is true, so I was prepared to discuss it. But then she started talking about how continuity is really important in therapy. She reminded me of her policy that clients can take four weeks off, which I knew because she mentioned it when I had to reschedule a session last month. Then she said she has a 24-hour cancellation policy and if clients don’t give notice, or if they miss sessions beyond the allotted four weeks, she charges them for it. Um, okay, good to know?

So then she finally made her way back around to me taking this trip by saying that my options are to either take this week as one of my four “off” weeks OR we can schedule phone sessions during our regular office session times. Wait, what? Phone sessions?! Whoa. Hold on a second.

I was totally confused. I didn’t understand why she was telling me all of this. I’ve never missed a session and she has no reason to believe I would start doing so anytime soon. I didn’t really know how to respond, so I asked why she was suddenly telling me her policies. She said that she’d told me this before, but she wanted to remind me because of my impending break. I told her that she had not told me all of this before so it was really weird and jarring that she was bringing it up now. Her response was that she had, but perhaps I’d forgotten.

I felt Julia fly up to front and angrily say, “Oh! Isn’t that convenient?” The therapist looked surprised by the sudden hostility and (luckily) took a second to collect herself before saying, “I just mean that, generally, because first sessions are usually difficult for people, they don’t always remember everything that is said in them.” Julia was NOT having this. She told her that we would definitely have remembered something like that (and she’s right, we would).

I thought this was going to turn into some strange power struggle, but the therapist conceded and said, “Okay. Well perhaps I didn’t tell you.” Which caused Julia to drop her defenses enough for me to regain control and reply, “No, I don’t believe you did. When I first saw you, things were very tentative – you said we could meet a few sessions to see if we would be a fit – so we never had a formal conversation about policies.” She said I was right and that, yes, we probably never got to have that conversation because of the nature of how the therapeutic relationship started.

But it was too late. The system was on edge and I was frozen. Julia was not about to leave my side, either. She was pissed and not having any of this. I was too tired to fight her, so I just let her do her thing. I pulled my knees right to my nose and buried my face in my legs. I felt all of this rage – Julia’s rage – flowing right beneath the surface. Too close for comfort. The therapist seemed pretty confused as to what was going on. She asked me to talk about how I felt or what was going on, but I couldn’t. I don’t do anger. I can’t.


So we spent the next third of the session mostly in silence. Then I started to cry. The therapist was still confused, but I think she could tell we were in distress so she said, “I definitely want to know what’s going on right now, but I don’t want to be intrusive. I also think you might be feeling something really difficult right now, but you haven’t historically been given a space to feel difficult things. So I want to allow you that space right now.” I really appreciated that. I took a minute or so to gather my thoughts and then in one long breath I said,

“It’s just that I came into this session with so much to say and I was going to be brave and strong and talk about all of these really difficult things because I’m so scared about going on this trip since last time we went, everything got crazy and there were all of these crises and cutting and “emergency” contact with Zooey and then right after we got back was the three-day hospitalization and after that, Zooey said we had to go to an intensive program or else she would leave us and we stood our ground at first and said NO, but then we were too scared to lose her so we decided to go to the program in Massachusetts for two weeks, but when we got back things were super weird until Zooey’s Thanksgiving break and then she came back and we had a difficult session where we were mad at her and she was mad at us and then…it was over. She left us.”

At this point I was nearly sobbing. The therapist jumped in and said, “Oh wow. Okay. So there’s this whole other layer to you taking this trip beyond being in your hometown and near your family.” To which I was like, “YES!”

She acknowledged that she hadn’t realized there was this other layer and in her efforts to figure out how best to support me during my week away, she was too focused on the “practical” stuff and missed what I really needed from her and from the session. She apologized for that and for presenting her attendance policies in such a “clunky” manner and admitted that she brought it up because she wanted to make sure we had a conversation to figure out how she could be the best resource for me while away. She essentially wanted to make herself available to me, but she also wanted to maintain a boundary that is very crucial for our relationship due to what happened with Zooey.

That all made sense to me, but I still couldn’t shake off the feelings that were preventing me from settling back down. Julia popped back out to say, “I’m so mad at you! And you seem different – like you’re mad – and I don’t like it when people are mad!”

The therapist said that she was most definitely not mad at anyone, but that it was okay to be mad at her. Then she said she was certainly going to be disappointing and upset us from time to time throughout treatment.

This agitated Julia even further. She said, “I know! I don’t expect you to be perfect! But that doesn’t make it better. Listen…it’s like when someone steps on your toe and says ‘I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!’ and you’re like ‘Okay, fine, but it still hurts!'” To which the therapist agreed. Then she said that sometimes having moments like this where we don’t agree and things get difficult, but we push through them anyway and figure it out together can be what strengthens the relationship (that whole idea of therapeutic rupture and repair). I felt Julia roll her eyes and just say, “Pssh. Whatever.” The therapist said, “Why ‘whatever’?” and Julia said, “I mean, sure, that’s how it’s supposed to be, but it never is.” The therapist kinda just nodded. I’m not sure she knew what to say.

We just sat quietly for a while. I was having such a hard time finding a separation from the internal chaos or identifying any emotions. But then I remembered the list I’d made and said, “I’m just really frustrated right now because I really, really needed to connect with you during this session. It was important to me and I needed that before I left. I don’t want to go away with things like this.”

She said, “I really want that, too. Is there anything I can do to help us connect right now?” 

I wish I’d had an answer, but I didn’t. My head was spinning and I felt so out of control and frightened. But I worked hard to not just emotionally vacate the session. I could feel her fighting to stay with me and I noticed that she’d shifted her body language. She normally sits relaxed in her chair with her legs crossed. But once I began opening up, she leaned forward and moved as close to me as she could without leaving her chair. It didn’t feel unsafe. It felt like she was trying to find a way to connect with me, despite the fact that I was scared and curled into my own body and refusing to make eye contact.

She apologized again for how awkwardly the session started. I shared that I seem to inspire a sense of confusion and helplessness and clumsiness in people when they speak to me. She said that even if that is true, it’s not something I’m doing on purpose and it’s not my fault.

I replied, “It doesn’t matter whether or not I do it on purpose or whether or not it’s my fault…” She picked up my sentence and said, “Because the end result is the same?” to which I tearfully nodded yes.

Then session time was nearly over, so she asked me what I thought would be the best for me during the next week. I was terrified to commit to phone sessions. She asked where that was coming from, so I said, “Well…last Easter I took the same trip. It was my first time away from Zooey. I sent her an email the morning I left and told her that I was terrified to be away from her and that I was scared of how much I needed her. We’d scheduled a phone session, so when she called me, the first thing she said was, ‘Andi, I got your e-mail. I want you to know that it’s okay if you need me and it’s okay if you’re afraid to be away from me.’ But…it was decidedly not okay.”

So then the therapist suggested we just let this week be a “free pass” of sorts and we could figure it all out when I got back. But that scared me, too, so I said, “But I might need you while I’m away…” She finally just said, “Okay. Let’s schedule phone sessions for the times we normally meet. We can play it by ear. If you only need a short check-in, we’ll do that. But if you want to do a full session, we can do that, too.” I tentatively agreed.

Then she asked if there was anything else that I wanted or needed to say before I left. There was:

“I just wanted to say…when you leave, can you please do it better than Zooey? Please just give me a few weeks to figure something else out. Please let me find someone new first. Please don’t just abandon me.”

She paused for a moment and then said,If I leave…yes, I will do right by you.”

I thanked her and then I left.

It was not a good session. It was messy and emotional. We spent most of the hour disconnected and desperately trying to make our way back to each other. But we did. Somehow. And I am so grateful.

Request for Professional Review

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As most of you know, I’ve been going back and forth about the decision to file a formal complaint against my former therapist for her highly unethical behavior. If you’d like to know more about the specifics, you can read about it here or here.

(Short version: she abruptly terminated treatment with me after 10 months of twice-weekly therapy. I walked in to session one day and it was over. No transition and no new therapist in place. And to top it off, she blamed it all on me.)

I’ve been agonizing over this because I think I always knew that what she did was very wrong. But in the aftermath of losing her, I was still intent on preserving the relationship and trying to stay connected with her somehow. I loved her and she was important to me. Thus I was afraid of doing anything that might provoke her and push her further away from me. Now that all ties have been officially cut, I’ve had more clarity and the chance to think about this objectively. With my new perspective, it is clearer than ever that what she did was unethical.

Still, though, I’ve been doubting myself and whether or not filing such a complaint would be an act of retaliation or some attempt for me to remain connected to her somehow. I don’t want to be punitive. And I don’t want to get myself into some long drawn-out process that will be emotionally draining.

I’ve been debating over whether to not to bring this up with the therapist I’m seeing now. Since she is also a social worker, I felt that this might be a strange topic to discuss. I also admittedly don’t want her to think I’m the type of client who just files arbitrary complaints left and right when things don’t go the way I want them to. (She would probably never think that, but I don’t want to risk it. Or, more importantly, I don’t to risk that I will perceive her reaction as some version of the aforementioned opinion.)

Luckily, Wife and I have a friend who is also a therapist. Even better, she’s a therapist who’s not a social worker. So when Wife and I went to visit her and her husband this weekend, I used the opportunity to pick her brain a LOT. I’d sent her the link to this blog, so she was already aware of what happened with Zooey. And let’s just say she was not impressed.

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After reading Zooey’s email response, it seemed like she was trying to set a boundary, but was simultaneously refusing to be explicitly clear with me about it. I felt like her email was a cop-out and that she was STILL not taking responsibility for her own actions and decisions. I also knew that if I didn’t ask for clarification, I’d agonize over what, exactly, she meant.

So, true to form, I wrote her back and simply asked for clarification:

Thank you for responding, Zooey.

This may be redundant for you, but I do want to be perfectly clear on this: are you telling me to not ever communicate with you again in any way?

I understand the restrictions on personal relationships post-termination. In person and in a previous email, you said that you welcomed updates about my life. It would seem you are perhaps backtracking on that, so now I am admittedly confused.
I think it would be best if we were both explicitly clear on the boundary you are setting. Otherwise, it will probably drive me crazy to try and guess what is or is not okay.
Thank you,
This was her response, which made me both laugh very loudly and cry a bit:

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I recently saw the above quote while browsing tumblr. It’s short and vague and was probably written by an angsty teenager who just broke up with their bf/gf, but as soon as I saw it I felt like someone had punched me in the chest.

That quote essentially sums up who Zooey is to me now: a stranger who knows more intimate details about the most horrible aspects of our story than any other human being on the planet.

And that is excruciating.

I cannot accept this. I desperately need her to NOT be just a stranger with all my secrets. I need her to be something more. Someone more. Something bigger than that. I need to feel like our relationship goes beyond just me sharing secrets followed by estrangement. I need to know that I meant more. I need to feel like we’re somehow still connected.

I dreamed of her last night. It was a weird dream about living underwater, but I woke up missing her terribly. That feeling just sat right in the center of my chest all damn day, making it hard to breathe. When my wife got home this afternoon, I just started crying. I explained how much I miss Zooey today and how I don’t really understand how I’m supposed to be dealing with all of this. And that I wish so much that I could just talk to her.

So my wife suggested I just ask for what I want. And I did. I called Zooey and left a voicemail somewhat along the lines of this:

Hi Zooey, this is Andie. I actually have no reason for calling you, except that I just really miss you today. There’s nothing even significant about today (I don’t think) but you’ve just really been on my mind. I’ve spent a lot of time in session processing all of this with someone new. And that helps…a lot. But there’s no guidelines or handbook for navigating this situation, so I think I’m just trying to figure it out as I go.

I don’t really know what to say, exactly. I don’t need your professional help and I’m okay. But…you’re someone who means a lot to me and I would really love to hear your voice.

So this is probably super weird, but I’m going to ask if, when you have a some moments free, you could call me back and we could just talk for a few minutes. I don’t know if that’s allowed or whatever, but I thought I’d ask anyway.

My number is [number].

Thanks. I hope you’re well. Bye.

I don’t know that she’ll call me back. I hope she does though, even if only to let me know that it actually is not appropriate for us to be speaking on the phone now that I’m not her client or whatever. I really have no idea what I would even say to her if she did call back, but I’m not sure that it matters. All I know is that it felt very important to me that I be heard – that she know how I’m feeling and that I be able to send some of that energy out into the world.

It’s too much to carry all alone.


Luckily, today went much better than yesterday. I think just writing about how awful and worthless I felt was enough to propel me out of that funk and into some semblance of productivity. I managed to eat three (somewhat) decent meals today, study for several hours, and do an impressive amount of live-tweeting during the Oscars.

I have another therapy session tomorrow. Since I only got through the death of a family friend and contacting my brother on Friday, I am probably going to try to talk about my Wife not getting the job and one other thing (that I haven’t yet talked about on this blog). I don’t know if I’ll get through it all, but it’s a good starting point.

I should also probably talk about last session, yeah? I mean, I totally just started crying when she merely mentioned increasing the frequency of sessions to twice-weekly. She’s probably wondering what the hell was going on – what was I thinking/feeling in that moment? I was thinking a lot of things.

Mostly, however, I was thinking,

“No…please don’t do this. Please don’t get invested. Please don’t start caring about me. Please don’t get me to trust you.”

The fear of connection was incredibly overwhelming. She did, of course, mention Zooey in that moment and said something about how I was probably reacting to the experience of losing her and the awful termination we had. Yes. Of course. I think I cried for that, too – for the fact that this beautiful relationship that I valued so much somehow turned into a source of such tremendous pain and self-doubt. I ended up reaching an unprecedented level of trust with Zooey that I didn’t believe was possible with a clinician. In one fell swoop, it all came tumbling down on me and now I’m just buried in the remnants of that disastrous ending.

Anyway, I’m sure I’ll figure out what I want to say at some point between now and tomorrow afternoon. It’s not like I am EVER at a shortage of conversation topics. I guess I’m just nervous to follow-up what ended up being such a weirdly emotional session.

But today was better. Maybe tomorrow will be better, too. Wish me luck on my finals!


Screen Shot 2015-02-16 at 9.59.56 PMSince it’s is a federal holiday here in America, I had no classes today. Yay for that. But it also means that the building where the therapist works is closed and thus she couldn’t have any sessions today. Lame. This is one of the things I dislike about having my regular sessions on Mondays – so many damn holidays are on Mondays. At least we still had yoga class.

I do have a session scheduled for Friday, but since I normally see her on Mondays, I think I’m going to call tomorrow to cancel. There’s only two days between Friday and Monday, so I’d rather just wait and “re-calibrate” back into our normal Monday session time. I don’t really do well when things go off schedule. Or at least, the system doesn’t do well. We need a very precise and predictable routine.

Plus there’s the money. We’ve already been watching our spending and I feel horribly guilty every time I write a check for each session. I don’t need to add to that by having two sessions so close together. Now that Wife doesn’t even have a job in the process of happening, I definitely don’t want to spend the extra money.

And to be honest, I don’t like the idea of two sessions so close together. It feels eerily similar to the experience of twice-weekly sessions, which is WAY too close to how things were with Zooey. This therapist knows I saw Zooey twice a week for the entire time I was in treatment with her. She’s brought it up a couple of times as a possible option for us to discuss. But…no. Hell no. I just can’t. I cannot.

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