Pity Party

So, I’ve started seeing a therapist. My good, sweet, loyal friend, Judy, did extensive research to find someone whom I would be very comfortable with. And she did an excellent job. Amanda is a very empathic, caring girl (she’s half my age). Seems to know her stuff. Although, I don’t know what her stuff is, exactly. I’m not sure what our purpose is. I basically, wanted a safe place to go to just talk, about me. Maybe to vent, or muse, or cry, or whatever the day called for.  At first, I thought that was the agenda. I’m sure that Amanda is highly qualified (Judy would never accept less, on my behalf), and I know her patients (clients?) vary in ages and problems. First visit, she asked me what I wanted from our sessions. Since then, we seem to meander. Which is fine. I think. I, personally, don’t have an agenda. My “problems”, are ongoing, with no solution. I assume the only thing she might want to work on with me, is how I respond to my ongoing problems. At any rate, today, she asked me several “leading” questions – such as, what am I afraid of?  What are my options? Etc. During some of the questioning, as I’m trying to articulate my answers, I began to cry. I won’t lie. It’s been a rough week. She let me cry for a while and then she said, “I’m going to let you feel sorry for yourself, today. But we are not going to do this again.” ?????  What?  Okay.  Where else do I get to feel free enough to cry – if not here? I can’t cry at home, or work or in my car. I am Never alone. What is the alternative, exactly?  There are no solutions, so….?    I don’t know. I see her every Tuesday, so it will be interesting to see what next week brings.  But, apparently, there’s no crying in therapy!   Who knew?       Stay tuned.