Pissed off.
Wanting to swear.
Hating everyone and everything.
I have never trusted counsellors or therapists or shrinks and I wasn't about to start now.
Silence.
Aside from the trickling water from her water feature.
And the ticking of the clock.
Is my time done yet?
Can I retreat again to my world, my room, my head?
Called down to the counsellor; how embarrassing.
I'm sure they all had a good laugh.
She explains her job and then starts asking questions that I have no interest in answering, tells a joke, trying a little to hard to be my friend.
I have never trusted counsellors or therapists or shrinks and I wasn't about to start now.
Silence.
Aside from the trickling water from her water feature.
And the ticking of the clock.
Is my time done yet?
Can I retreat again to my world, my room, my head?
Called down to the counsellor; how embarrassing.
I'm sure they all had a good laugh.
She explains her job and then starts asking questions that I have no interest in answering, tells a joke, trying a little to hard to be my friend.
Acting like she knows me but she doesn't know me at all.
She's a stranger.
But there is just something about her and this room and I am surprised that I am actually tempted to finally open up to someone about everything, but it is so hard.
Sometimes my secrets feel like all I've got.
I'm trapped like sand in an hour glass; shifting and moving and pouring but never really going anywhere.
Where to start....
I gaze up at the windows.
It is so bright outside and I feel so dark inside.
Is that a paradox? I know it's something.
I'm trapped like sand in an hour glass; shifting and moving and pouring but never really going anywhere.
Where to start....
I gaze up at the windows.
It is so bright outside and I feel so dark inside.
Is that a paradox? I know it's something.
I catch myself before a small smile crosses my lips - did she see?
I must be super-interesting or maybe it's just a slow day because she just can't take her eyes off me.
Am I on display here?
Is she going to observe me like a biologist tracking the patterns in animals in captivity?
Is it my move? Which piece to play?
But...maybe she could help and maybe I could feel better if I lifted the veil that has been figuratively covering me for so long I can't remember but maybe I like it better this way as everyone leaves me alone all the time like I'm contagious except for that nosy English teacher who just had to read my poem and freak out.
Or maybe I wanted that all along?
Was I crying for help?
Was that my plan?
Did I want to be here, sitting with her, opening up and being helped and actually listened to and finally heard?
Maybe.
Sigh.
Sigh.
Sighhhhhh.
But...maybe she could help and maybe I could feel better if I lifted the veil that has been figuratively covering me for so long I can't remember but maybe I like it better this way as everyone leaves me alone all the time like I'm contagious except for that nosy English teacher who just had to read my poem and freak out.
Or maybe I wanted that all along?
Was I crying for help?
Was that my plan?
Did I want to be here, sitting with her, opening up and being helped and actually listened to and finally heard?
Maybe.
Sigh.
Sigh.
Sighhhhhh.
It would feel good to share.
It would feel good to tell my story.
I look up and meet her eyes and she smiles.
Almost literally trembling, I open my mouth as if to speak, but I pause, and look down at the worn carpet again.
What to share and how much and if I start to talk can I control myself as I do want help with certain things, but don't want to share everything and I definitely don't want to cry, not here and not in front of this lady I barely know.
Her phone rings.
She ignores it and slides her chair a little closer to mine.
Tells me she is here for me and wants to help.
Tells me what I'm going through is normal but that it doesn't have to be this way.
"Talking helps."
I look up again, meeting her calm and caring eyes.
Is this a trap?
No!
Take a deep breath and another.
And then as if a scarecrow giving in to a heavy wind, I begin.
I look up and meet her eyes and she smiles.
Almost literally trembling, I open my mouth as if to speak, but I pause, and look down at the worn carpet again.
What to share and how much and if I start to talk can I control myself as I do want help with certain things, but don't want to share everything and I definitely don't want to cry, not here and not in front of this lady I barely know.
Her phone rings.
She ignores it and slides her chair a little closer to mine.
Tells me she is here for me and wants to help.
Tells me what I'm going through is normal but that it doesn't have to be this way.
"Talking helps."
I look up again, meeting her calm and caring eyes.
Is this a trap?
No!
Take a deep breath and another.
And then as if a scarecrow giving in to a heavy wind, I begin.
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