The 167 Hours You Never See

Your hour ends. Then come 167 hours of silence. It isn't silent though. It is loud and unrecorded. Life happens in the gap between sessions. We hope we'll remember it right. We rarely do.

The gap between sessions robs you of the events as they happened. Today's version of a week ago is different than when it happened. By Thursday, a calmer mood has sanded down Tuesday's panic. The gap swallows a lot of the content you need to move forward.

This isn't a miss on your part. It is structural. Meeting once a week (or less) doesn't support the continuity necessary for your goals. Shrinking the gap is the only way continuity will land. How do you do that outside of meeting more often?

A client writes a line the moment it happens. They write down the fight they had with their father, and how small it left them feeling. This folds into the living picture of them that stays current on its own. By your next session, everything is already there, waiting in their words.

Sessions are better informed. Continuity of care no longer loses ground to the gap. The session doesn't open with excavation. The session opens with where the work lives.