My therapist asked me what it was like for me to have her be on vacation, and not meet that week. It seemed like a really weird question, but as we started talking about it, I realized there was alot of stuff I thought about because she was gone. So I told her about thinking I didn't need her, and didn't know when or how to end therapy, or how I would know it was time and all. She seemed to really understand, of course, as usual.  She told me I could leave any time, and I could come back any time if I left. She asked me if it was hard to stay feeling connected to her when she was on vacation.  All of a sudden, this like ball of anger rose up in my chest, and I realized that I was pissed that she could just go off on vacation and have a good time and leave me to just take care of myself, or have a crisis, or just be like drifting out to sea or something.  Like, how understanding is that??  But of course she understood how I could feel that way, and didn't seem to mind at all that I was pissed at her.  Actually, I was mostly kind of sulky. I just stopped answering her questions, except for a word or two.  I just didn't feel like doing what she said. But she didn't give up. She wasn't like a battering ram or anything, but I could feel her there, so patient, I had the feeling she'd wait however long it took to re-connect with me. It was so sweet, I just started crying--and crying! Jeez. I felt this deep like ache in my heart or something and I realized I had such an intense craving for how she was with me--for someone to be so...there, so warm and caring and patient and not running off somewhere with something more important to do, and that's when I realized I was describing the barracuda, and that my therapist was being like how I wanted a mom to be--the opposite of the barracuda.  Wow--it was so intense!