Twice a Week

I ended up having two sessions this week.

Honestly, bless my therapist for noticing I needed the extra support without me asking for it, because I wouldn’t have asked.

The fact that she even checked in and offered was emotionally loaded in a way I wasn’t prepared for. I think I cried more over that offer than I have cried over most of the trauma I carry. There was something about being seen before I had to wave a flag. Something about someone noticing I was struggling and choosing to move toward me instead of waiting for me to figure it out alone.

That support helped stabilize me more than I expected.

It helped me find my footing again.

At the end of today’s session, she invited me to start doing psychoanalytic work with her twice a week.

Now I’m sitting with a mixture of curiosity, excitement, and fear.

I’ve read enough about psychoanalytic work to know there isn’t just one version of it. There is the old image people tend to think of: the therapist as a blank slate, distant, neutral, almost invisible. Then there are more relational approaches where the relationship itself becomes part of the work.

The framework itself draws me in.

The deeper thinking.

The analysis.

The idea that the relationship between therapist and client isn’t something happening alongside therapy, but something that can actually become part of the therapy.

I didn’t name this blog Chronic Processor for fun.

My brain is constantly picking things up, turning them over, examining them from every angle, trying to squeeze every drop of meaning and perspective out of them. If there is a pattern to be found, I want to find it. If there is a contradiction, I want to understand it.

In a lot of ways, psychoanalytic work sounds like it was built for people like me.

The bigger question isn’t whether the framework fits.

It’s whether the relationship could survive the changes the framework might require.

Right now, I feel relatively comfortable with our dynamic.

She doesn’t self-disclose, and honestly that doesn’t bother me. What matters to me is that she feels present. Engaged. Human.

My fear is that psychoanalytic work would require her to become more withdrawn from the process. More distant. More neutral.

And I don’t know if my system could tolerate that.

Because relational safety matters to me.

The irony is that one of the things that makes psychoanalytic work appealing is the focus on the relationship itself.

Yet the thing I’m most afraid of is losing the version of the relationship that already feels safe enough to explore.

Then there’s the attachment piece.

Meeting twice a week sounds wonderful.

The continuity alone feels appealing. Less time spent trying to remember where I was last session. Less time rebuilding momentum. More room to stay connected to the work.

But I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about what that frequency might stir up.

Attachment already feels complicated enough.

What happens when there are two points of connection every week instead of one?

What gets activated?

What gets soothed?

What gets exposed?

I don’t know.

What I do know is that this week has reminded me how much support matters.

Everything happening in my life right now is hard.

I’m exhausted in a way that feels physical, mental, and emotional all at once.

I’m worn down.

Some days it feels like I’m running on medication, caffeine, beer, and sheer stubbornness.

But I think I’m going to be okay.

And that sentence means something because two days ago I couldn’t honestly say it.

Today I can, because someone noticed I was struggling and offered support before I had to ask for it.

That helped me find my footing again.

Right now, I’m grateful for that.