I know my therapist cares. She's helped me a lot, and while I've been attending therapy, I've gone back to school, finished my bachelor's, and gotten my master's. I've set boundaries in my marriage and called a halt to longstanding verbal abuse. I've taught my kids about what is and isn't healthy in relationships, and though they still suffer from the problems in our family while they were growing up, they are in much better places than they were.

So, looking back, I can see that the course of therapy has not been meaningless. Or, rather, two courses, but same therapist. I went for a few years in the early 2000s, stopped for a few years, and went back in 2011 when I realized my coping mechanisms were being overwhelmed. This second time around was when I got my master's.

I tend to avoid turning to people--that's why my therapist feels strongly that therapy is good for me.

But it's rubbing salt in the wounds right now.

My mother's death--we don't even talk about that anymore. I miss her all. the. time. Can't go across the country to see my father, who I adore, because he is remarried (so quickly!) and my siblings tell me my parent's house is in flux. My parents never had money--we were so broke that our clothes were donations by neighbors, a lot of our food was grown in the backyard, and I only remember ever going to the doctor once in my childhood. But, over time, my parents had a little more money and my mom slowly turned that old house into a beautiful place. And now, her things are in storage, and my dad's new wife's stuff is in boxes everywhere. I just can't go.

My heart still hurts from a suicide that affected me a year and a half ago.

My husband is in a dangerous foreign location. It's been well over a year and we have months to go.

Recently my brother, his wife, and my little niece moved away. My niece was my sunshine. She's a year old. I used to play with her, take her places, sing to her, and she had a special smile that was just for me. We've skyped a couple times, and she still has that smile, but she gets mad because we can't touch each other or play anymore. I can barely bring myself to think about her because it makes me cry and just feel lost.

My son. I found out two years ago that he was sexually abused over a period of years in childhood by a family "friend." He cuts now and abuses substances. Flashes of his childhood come to me sometimes, randomly--such a lovely, sweet, funny boy, full up with goodwill. So hurt now that he hurts himself and is being hurt further.

Every time I go in for my session, my T asks how my son is. How my niece is. How I am in relation to them. How I am is falling apart, and her queries are salt in my eyes. I asked her once not to ask but she apparently doesn't remember that. I can't entirely blame her, because I am not all that forthcoming, but not only is therapy not helping right now, it's actually hurting.

I worry about stopping, though. I have a history of not really employing healthy coping mechanisms: I overeat, I undereat, I overexercise, I sleep too much, I ruminate. I don't think it's a good time for me to stop therapy, but I don't know how to get what I need from it. I'd like to draw in there, listen to music, do relaxation exercises maybe. I'd like my T to use different approaches entirely.

Not long ago, we had a serious rupture. She's long allowed me to email between sessions, because I process much better when I write than I do verbally. However, twice within a short time period she not only did not read the emails, she also did not mention them in my next session. I did not know that she did not read them until I asked near the end of the session--although I suspected it because she usually brings up the email subject matter pretty quickly.

I do not expect her to read them before session, although she always has. I have always told her that she can save them until my session and read them at the beginning, or if she reads them between sessions, she can bill me for her reading time. She's refused to bill me, but when she had two times when she did not read what I had written, she did not even mention it.

I quit writing for my therapy, for the most part. I told her how upset I was, how her actions communicated lack of concern or interest. She could see that I was upset, even angry, and I almost never get angry. She apologized, said that she doesn't always handle things perfectly, and she did not realize how important how she handled my writing was. I'm still floored by that, and still not trusting her enough to write much, although I have sent her something I wrote once since then (it was about a month ago.)

I don't want to switch Ts. She's become part of my life story, part of why I am who I am now. I know she cares about me very much; I would even say she loves me--that's what I see on her face. But I don't know what to do. I want to trade in the salt for bath salts, for soothing instead of pain. And I want to be able to sheath my pain so that when I carry it it does not cut me anymore. Writing helped me do that. It feels like my T didn't care enough about my writing for me to care enough to do it.

I guess my question is, have you ever asked your T to change his or her approach? Have you ever tried to alter the therapy frame yourself? What can I do? I hurt so much. I need therapy. But going, given the onslaught of difficulties, almost feels laughable, like a bandaid for a broken arm.