Session 2

I find myself in the comforting yet familiar room with my therapist, who gently asks, “How are you doing today?” In that moment, I reflect, wondering how she perceives my state of being. It’s clear to both of us that I’m grappling with emotions, as evidenced by the box of tissues nearby, preparing for the wave of feelings that often accompanies such questions. When you’re in a vulnerable space, even a simple, caring inquiry like, “How are you? Are you okay?” or a gentle hug can feel like a dam breaking, releasing a torrent of tears. That’s exactly what unfolded; as I let those emotions surge forth, I paused to catch my breath and softly replied, “okay.” Deep down, we both understand that this is not the full picture, especially after the outburst of tears, yet she compassionately accepts my response. As she inquires about my week since our last session, I find myself feeling somewhat adrift, admitting I’m unsure if I remembered to brush my teeth before arriving. Eventually, I share how I’ve been gaining comfort from listening to Craig Groeschel from Life Church on YouTube and taking walks in the park to discover those small pockets of peace. Her supportive response of, “that’s good,” encourages me as she asks, “what do you feel in those moments?” I take a moment to gather my thoughts and convey that I experience peace, reassurance, and hope. His words resonate deeply with me, especially when he speaks about feeling lost, filling me with strength and the realization that I’m not alone in this struggle; he has traversed those feelings, and if he can find his way through, perhaps I can too. When she probes into my relationship with my boyfriend, I confess that I feel an instinctual pushback. It’s not a lack of love; rather, it’s the complexity of my emotions that I struggle to navigate. When he reaches out for closeness, I feel a wrenching ache in my heart, a knot in my stomach. I long to draw nearer to him, yet something within me holds me back. This recognition brings forth fresh tears. She gently asks what I wish to do with this feeling. In that moment, I find myself questioning why she asks so many questions and why she doesn’t just direct me toward what I should do. Ultimately, I reveal that I don’t have the answers. He is genuinely wonderful, loving, and caring—the best partner I could ask for—yet the turmoil inside me leaves me perplexed. I understand it’s not a lack of love, and that’s the only clarity I possess. I express how the thought of hurting him deeply troubles me, and it sorrowfully weighs on me to acknowledge that I might be causing him pain. I want nothing more than for him to find happiness; he deserves someone capable of mirroring the love he gives. I want to be that person, but fear envelops me. She then gently states that our time is up. Ugh, “What do you mean our time’s up? I am not finished. I need you to tell me what to do next. I crave comfort.” She suggests, “Should we plan on meeting again next week?” I nod in agreement, thanking her for her time as I leave the session with tears streaming down my cheeks, feeling emotionally drained and without more clarity than when I arrived.