There’s a real feeling in my sessions of cognitive analytic therapy of let’s just get on with the job. I’m not absolutely sure what the usual timescale is from beginning to end of a ‘treatment’, but I’m aware that it is expected to be short and not open ended. I welcome this dynamism, and it works when you have identified a specific issue to deal with.

In just three sessions my therapist believes he has gleaned enough information from me and can get to the crux of the matter. In session number four I am presented with some feedback in the form of a letter. I had been looking forward to this. I go round in circles in my head, examining my issues from every which way. Now I am going to be presented with a summary of my dilemmas from an outward, clear-thinking perspective. He tells me that he will read it to me. I find I am nervous and excited at the thought of this. I brace myself for any unexpected home truths. Although I squirm a bit hearing my problems spelt out so clearly, there are no surprise revelations. I’m not sure if that is a good or a bad thing. A bit of me is looking for that elusive key.

He invites me to comment on what he has read. This letter is to form the basis of what we will work on in future sessions. I wonder if it is nerve-wracking for him – after all he is putting his listening and analytical skills on the line, there in black and white.

There are one or two things that I have since changed for accuracy or because the tone wasn’t quite right, but I’d say he’s pretty much sussed me. I give him a corrected version in session number five. He, in turn, presented me with another document for discussion. This time it was a flow diagram. What this does is sum up my feelings and behaviour in intimate relationships. Yes, he’s right: I’m a complete contrary mess in that department. He manages to encapsulate several decades of entrenched and unsatisfactory patterns on the side of an A4 sheet.

I can’t tell you how refreshing it is to have something concrete to hold in my hands and to reflect upon. The trouble with just talking is that it is very hard to recollect what was said half-an-hour later, never mind weeks or months later. I am glad that he has given me a copy of the letter so I can read it again and really think about it. It is also interesting to see how your focus changes through the weeks. What was a big issue only a month ago does not seem to loom so large today and I have something else to fret about instead. To have a monthly summing up would be very beneficial to see what was important, how the process of change occurs and how I have moved on. I can imagine that if I find myself experiencing the same feelings or patterns three years down the line, I could refer to what has been written down and it will reinforce what I have learnt about myself and how to deal with it.

However, all that said, I am still not completely happy. My therapist has identified my contrary nature in relationships; well I think I’m also contrary in therapy. (Contrary is my word not his. Although how I’d rather describe my behaviour is constantly questioning, constantly looking for alternative ways of doing things, trying to make things better and right.)

If there is a downside to this more focused type of therapy, it is that it is focused. In every aspect of my life – the relationships with my children, ex-partner, current partner, what I am doing, where I am living – there is uncertainty and change, and quite rapid change, at that. I feel I need time each session just to process what is going on, to enable me to deal with what life will throw at me next. I believe that although my therapist is prepared to listen to this week’s blow-by-blow account of what’s going on, he is trying to keep me on track to deal with what is on the pieces of paper. His agenda is to identify an issue, find a way of addressing it and thereby bring about change and greater contentment for me.

It’s almost as though I need two types of therapy. I need the meandering, unfocused kind to be able to reflect on what is happening to me, to feel there is someone on my side, holding my hand through it all. And then I want the focused, practical type of therapy with lists and plans of action and everything written down on paper that will make me feel as though I am getting somewhere, making decisions and bringing about change. I guess you never find all that you want or need in one relationship, and therapy is only a projection of that. Perhaps I’ll never be happy, but then that’s why I find myself in therapy.

Some details have been changed to protect identities.