Dr. S was not a boring person, and I didn’t think I was, either, so the boredom provoked our mutual suspicion. Dr. S knew better than to pressure me to stay, but she did not fulfill my fantasy of a reparative final session. I’d been afraid of disappointing Dr. S — and then I did. Leaving Dr. S made it possible to imagine going back — both humbled and emboldened by our mutual capacity to abide the separation. I was gone only for a little more than a year, and when I went back to Dr. S, we saw each other once a week.

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