What it feels like for a girl...who's anxious

I thought I'd kick off my participation in National Blog Posting Month by getting all TMI on you and describing what it's like to be in therapy. I started therapy a month or so ago, for the first time ever, when I found that some of my obsessive, anxious thought patterns were intruding on my ability to carry out my normal daily activities. I felt that I had "hit rock-bottom," so to speak, one day at work when I was so consumed by obsessive worry about Maya that I couldn't focus on work tasks or finish them. My working relationships were affected, too---I felt unable to really converse with anyone or simply "act normal" in the office.
My brother-in-law J, when he lived out here, had a wonderful therapist whom he was forever raving about, so I got her number from him and gave her a call. A week or so later, I was sitting in her cozy, homey little office on a big furry couch, patting her cute little dog on the head and verbally spewing all over the place. It was an experience unlike any I'd ever had in that I found myself spilling the majority of my life story, at top speed, to a person who, minutes before, had been a complete stranger. A few tears were shed, too. By the end of it, I felt like a bad date: all self-involved and "me, me, me!" and overly talkative and emotionally volatile. The therapist ("C") reassured me that therapy is an appropriate place for talking about oneself for an extended period, but still, I left there feeling kind of guilty that I hadn't been all, "So, C, tell me about your life!" I mean, in my normal relationships and interactions with people, I would consider it rude to talk about myself exclusively for 50 straight minutes, you know?
Now, with about four or five sessions under my belt, I feel mostly comfortable in C's office, bursting forth with whatever comes to mind and going off on tangents. C is a nice combination of friendly and warm plus professional and goal-oriented. Additionally, we seem to have similar philosophies regarding diagnoses and treatments. Also, she's probably the best listener I've ever met (followed closely by my mom).
A typical session tends to begin with C's asking me what I'm "feeling right now," and my surprising myself with an answer. Most of the time I don't arrive "prepared;" that is, I don't think through what I want to talk about. It's all pretty spontaneous, and that was initially unnerving for me but now seems OK. Next, we usually revisit a Big Issue or two that was established during our first meeting.
Toward the end of my two most recent sessions, C and I have taken turns reading aloud from some relevant literature on the subjects of feelings and anxiety, and while the readings don't necessarily apply to me 100%, they are informative and helpful. Sometimes we'll come to an excerpt that makes me think of S, or my dad. And we'll wrap up with her giving me a strategy to try, something from the literature.
I still have to fight the urge at the end of each session to ask, "And how are you doing this week, C? What's new? Any weekend plans?" because I'm pretty sure that's not appropriate, even though I'm genuinely curious and would really like to know more about her. But, on the other hand, I am paying this woman to get to know me and my history and help me manage my thought patterns, so that fact helps me feel less "selfish" during my sessions.
In all, therapy is helping. It sometimes feels a little scattered, or messy, or that it's taken some turn I didn't want it to, but I think that's just an unavoidable facet of conversation in general, whether that conversation is between friends or coworkers or family members or a service provider and her client.