Thrilling. That’s the emotion that comes to mind, but I don’t say this out loud because it doesn’t answer his question.
Again my therapist asks me, “What is the emotion you’re feeling right now, can you describe it?”
We are talking about something important, I’m sure. I tuned out 30 seconds ago and began studying his subtle movements, facial expressions in reaction to my words, searching for confirmation that my carnal attraction towards him was a mutual one. No, this is not a pattern of mine. Yes, I understand this is a red flag and considered unhealthy behavior. The knowledge of this has not stopped me from having incredibly detailed daydreams
Analyzing my therapists motives must be counterproductive. It’s definitely time-consuming, and exhausting for two main reasons:
1. I’m unable to ask him direct questions out of common courtesy, and probably boundaries. (a fuzzy concept with an excellent name)
2. The space between my appointments forces me to come to my own conclusions (dangerous)
Today I met him thirty minutes late for my 11am appointment. Often I’m sure I’ll become an entirely different person by the time a scheduled event occurs. That I’ll be ready.
This morning, like many other mornings or afternoons, that didn’t happen.
I wasn’t up at 6am running in spandex down to the beach, grinning from ear to ear, and mentally reciting my list of things I’m grateful for. I was in my bed, and made a seemingly innocent decision to scroll through the feed on Instagram. Big mistake. I now know everything about someone named Matt, and his wardrobe choices over the past two months.
Once I arrived at his office we spent time talking about my visit home, and how I’d like my family dynamic to improve. How painful I considered the prospect of asking my Mom for a hug, or even worse, to be the one initiating affection.
The session came to a close, and I was relieved. There hadn’t been mention of the ‘issue’ I raised last week. I was exhausted, vulnerable, and couldn’t represent myself accurately.
What had I said exactly? Geez, something about not being able to take him seriously because he’s attractive. Admitting I have motives when interacting with men I’m attracted to. I hope I hadn’t said that last part. Gathering my things, while internally celebrating my good fortune, he started to speak.
“Blah, blah, blah, what you brought up last time, blah, blah, I didn’t forget, blah, blah, it’s important, blah, blah, talk about it next time, blah blah.”
That was my signal to go.
But, not before he left me with some gems to mull over for two weeks.
“I like those pants…. Only you could pull something like that off… I always like what you wear… You seem spacey today. It’s not an insult. You’re pleasant company. I always enjoy your company.”
Perhaps there’s nothing there, but you haven’t seen the person these words come out of. You would want to see something too.