We can have a final session. In which I will just cry? So, that will be fun? I mean, this is good news. But it will still be awful.
I guess the agenda really is to express some of my reaction, and to define some next steps—like asking her who else in her practice might be a better fit, and/or where else I might want to go with this part of my treatment. (Yes, I do have half a mind to just quit here, and I can't tell whether that's passive-aggression or just thrift—most likely a bit of both.)
Really what I want from a session is a chance to be heard, and some advice about the transition, and also to get totally clear on whether there is, in fact, any chance of being an exception (there is not, I don't think, but it's hard to quit thinking there is until I hear it from her). I think this needs probably to wait until next week, so I can touch base with my therapist and clear my head a little.
In the meantime, my food is fine. I've choked up on it a bit—added up my calories at the end of the day yesterday and skipped a pre-bed snack I might otherwise have gone for—but I'm not restricting quantitatively or qualitatively.
"Remember that you're the one who's done the work," my boyfriend says.
What I want is to see that she's sad. That's what I want. In addition to the pragmatic things.