over/under

a letter to my therapist

Lucian Freud, Double Portrait, 1985-86

I’d never felt so safe until I met you. I told you things I’ve never told anyone almost immediately—maybe the second time we talked? I think that it helped that it was a professional relationship, limited by circumstance. I didn’t know anything about you and still don’t, other than where you live and work. That you have a vaguely bohemian sensibility as far as clothes and decor go, that you love your job. I’m actually not sure if you’re married or if you have kids. I considered asking, but you didn’t exactly volunteer to tell me, so I refrained.

I’ve been preoccupied with interpersonal relationships my entire life. A less sterile way to say that is that I love love, both platonic and romantic. But before I met you I felt way over my head. I felt like I was walking around underwater, emerging occasionally to gasp for air. I didn’t really have a clear vision for how I wanted my relationships to look.