More lessons learned from my therapist:

2) Be patient and understand that building a relationship takes time. Like building a house, you first build a foundation, and then continue to build brick by brick.
3) That my son probably cared about me and wanted me to be happy. I honestly needed some prodding to figure that out.
4) That one of the most important tasks for me was to stay consistent with my communications with my son. No matter what he did, I contacted him with the same frequency, and worked hard to be consistent. At times, I got scared and hurt and wanted to pull back a bit, but I did not tell him. She told me if I needed to pull back, do so, but not mention it.
5) Watch and listen for clues to give me an idea what he was comfortable with in our relationship.
6) Deal with my emotional baggage and issues on my own and not burden him with them. I did not always succeed with this one, although I tried. Yet, being as upfront as I tend to be, I did share some of my struggles with him. However, I tried not to burden him and expect him to be able to resolve my issues.
7) Be honest and take responsibility for my part in his adoption. She once asked me who I blamed the most and I told her myself. That was apparently the best answer in her eyes. Many people want to blame everyone else but themselves.
8) Crying is okay, and sometimes necessary and appropriate. I had the idea that crying showed weakness and hated to cry in front of others. She helped me see that sometimes crying is part of grieving and can be necessary and healthy. Instead of following my past routine of trying not to cry, she encouraged me to let it out.
9) My therapist helped me understand that I am a strong person. It sounds so simple, but no one had ever come out and said those words to me before. It was a revelation for me, and I now understand that I am strong. It is a good feeling

What did not work for me? Once I told my therapist that I was thinking about my son no-stop and it was driving me a bit nutty. She recommended that I put a rubber band on my wrist and flick it each time I thought of him. I told her I wasn’t certain that would work as I would be flicking the rubber band non-stop and end up with a sore and bloodied wrist. Although I tried it once, I eventually stopped obsessing on my own without the necessity of the rubberband.