We still see our therapist
We still see our therapist.
She started with her usual question: “How are the two of you doing?”
“Well, Philip’s been feathering his nest,” Beth said. “I don’t want to know the details, though.”
The therapist asks Beth some questions. It’s hard to reconstruct the conversation. The general tone was that Beth was angry. The therapist let us go at each other for a little while; I think we save it up for these sessions. Otherwise we’re cordial with each other, especially on the phone.
We are both saying the same thing: “Look at how much pain I’m in. Look what you’re doing to us.”
She’s angry, but I don’t get the sense that she wants to stay together. At one point I said to her, “You know, through all of this, I’ve never heard you say ‘Don’t leave,’ or ‘Stay,’ or ‘I want you to stay,’ or ‘I love you.’”
“Do you want him?” the therapist asks.
“I did. Once. Not now,”
That hurts less than I would have thought.