A friend of mine once told me that her H had strong will-power. I asked her to give me an example. She said that he never ate cookies. I asked her if he even liked cookies. She said, no, he doesn’t like cookies at all. I asked her how his actions can be considered will-power then. It’s only when we resist cookies we love then that can be called will-power. It’s with having desire that we can employ resistance but if there’s no desire, resistance isn’t necessary.

Such is the same with courage. Without fear there can be no courage. Mark Twain said, “Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear- not absence of fear. Except a creature be part coward, it is not a compliment to say it is brave.”

So, maybe there was some courage that landed on me yesterday. But it was not the type that yells ‘yahoo’ and goes running off the plank and jumps into the deep water.

Mine was much more timid and tepid. I dipped my toe in the water and then ran back to dry land. I returned and moved a bit deeper – up to my ankles and retreated once more. Only with the gentle coaxing of my T was I able to venture a bit deeper. But the reality is that I never did get into the deep water (as you’ll learn shortly) and how far I did go was only because my T was holding me above water, not by my own strength or ability. So, was courage really an element in the play yesterday or was the dominant movement actually ‘fear absorbed by a welcoming and nurturing and safe cocoon’?

Well, enough of the never-ending analysis. Intense desire that I have to ‘explain’ stuff usually leads me down the rabbit hole never to return.

“Would you change?” That question that entered my brain just minutes before session was a powerful impetus to keep going with the intention of sharing all with T. I had struggled mightily with the urge to run as far away as possible. I wanted to avoid, avoid, avoid ‘confronting’ T.

But Tracy Chapman in her song kinda reminded me why I was in therapy. I want to change. I really do want to change. And the change I want is to overcome my negative emotional responses and to be able to give and receive love generously without any kind of hidden agendas. I want to live authentically with all my heart and soul.

See, I think that all humans are seeking the same thing – Love. But our mental disabilities, our fears mostly (fear, I believe is the foundation for all other negative emotions), prevent us from accessing that God-given attribute to its fullest.

So, walking into session, I put aside my small self and entered with determination to CHANGE and to approach my dilemma with all the Love I could muster up. I could feel these tender feelings towards my T and to everyone and even to myself and I felt it so much that my problems seemed insignificant and miniscule.

But, not even having crossed the threshold of her office door before all those lofty thoughts and feelings disappeared. Man oh man, panic set in again.

I sat on couch and T offered for us to change seats so I wouldn’t risk seeing the light go on again. I was thinking that that’s the least of my problems right now so I told her, no thanks, I think I can buck up today. She didn’t know yet that that was one of the topics on my ‘agenda’.

One thing about my T – she is the friendliest person I know. She laughs a lot and it’s a nurturing supportive laugh. I can goof off with her and we share that kind of camaraderie that is very very comfortable EXCEPT when my issues are touched, then I shut down – not her, she’s the same supportive gentle kind person as always.

So, I took my pages out of my notebook and told her I brought some stuff to read. She smiled/laughed and said, ‘it looks like it’s typed single-spaced.’ And I laughed and said, ‘yes, and it’s 42 pages.’ I grabbed a pillow from the couch and handed it to her. “maybe you need a pillow so you can get comfortable and take a snooze.’ She laughed and said, “no, I’m sure I’ll be sitting on the edge of my seat.”

Well, I did not read it through straight. I did a lot of stalling, heming and hawing, looking for escape routes, switching topics, refusing to continue, looking for reassurance, looking for any sign of disapproval, and on and one. I interrupted myself a lot. I might read a bit and then I’d say I can’t do anymore and I’d put the papers back in my notebook. That happened probably more than a dozen times. Examples of my many diversionary tactics and words within the hour were:

1. “I don’t think I can do this”
2. “Hey, maybe I don’t have to read this. Maybe we can just continue working on my issues, and the things that are being addressed here will be automatically resolved without me having to bring them up now.”
3. “You know, I don’t really like ferris wheels. I prefer those spinning rides where you get dizzy. Vertigo is not my thing. What is your preference?”
4. “Now, what’s the point of me bringing this stuff up? Is there any therapeutic value? I mean, really?”
5. “Hey, I picked up The Little Prince last week. I enjoyed reading it”
6. “Isn’t there another way I can learn to overcome my fear?”
7. “You know, glancing at my words here, I can see that I didn’t express myself well. How about I rework them a bit and bring them back later to read to you.”
8. “Let me show you the sign language I’ve learned so far.”
9. “So, how do other people do this? There must be a better way. Can you tell me what that is?”
10. “I get seagull splat on my car all the time. It’s such a pain to clean up.”

Anyways, you get the idea. At one point, when I decided to continue on and was obviously feeling very agitated my T stopped me and she said, “sky, I want you to feel your body now. Put your hands on your thighs, wiggle your toes, take some deep breaths. Get back into your body.” That was great coaching on her part. Getting more grounded was very helpful.

When I told her initially how difficult this was going to be, she reminded me that I had shared some really tough stuff with her in the past and I survived. But, I said, “This time it’s about you so it’s different.” You should have seen her face. She got a big smile on her face and she said, “Good”. And I believed her and it made it so much better. She really knows how to put me at more ease.

I told T that I could only go forth on this reading if she agreed not to make any comments and that we would not discuss it afterwards. (See, I told you I didn’t jump in the deep water. Although it was terrifying envisioning reading my ‘rantings’ to her, it was beyond terrifying to imagine having a conversation about it.) She agreed and promised she wouldn’t try to address any of the issues I brought up.

Then I thought, ‘oh my, what will be talk about when I’m finished reading this so I can be sure that we don’t talk about this stuff?” So, I asked her what we should do when I’m finished. She said it was up to me. I said, “I want to switch topics immediately after finishing (or I’ll need to leave) so we have to have something prepared.” I then remembered that I had brought some photos of my beautiful grandsons (they were ring bearers at a wedding the previous week) to share and told her we’d do that. She was fine with it.

Like I said already, the reading was in fits and starts. One time T tried to comment on the phone calls restriction by saying, “Sky, we have to talk about this. You have seriously misunderstood me.”

My reaction was immediate when she started. I put my arm out with palm facing her as to protect myself. I said, “I can’t talk about this now. I really cannot do it.”

I think my reaction may be like a child who has been burned on a stove and the pain was so great that even looking at a cool stove brings out such fright in her. Likewise with me, even the word ‘phone calls’ triggers such an emotion that I cannot handle even the hint that that will come up.

So, T backed off, thank goodness. When I got to the last issue – the amount charged by her while I was on a trip, I just couldn’t move forward. I put the paper again back in my notebook and said, “I can’t do it.” It was a huge struggle within myself to finally, finally bring the papers back and begin reading about that 4th issue.

I had read a couple of sentences on that last topic and then looked up at T and thought I saw a stern expression on her face. I froze up. My heart got wedged in my throat and I couldn’t say another word. I became mute and felt myself dissociating. I wanted to disappear. For a few moments I was stuck but then I pulled up a surge of power and read until the end like a runner who sprints at the end of a race.

It was over. I felt depleted and empty. I was exhausted. I was scared. But,I had to do now whatever it would take to make sure we didn’t talk about the letter anymore. I whipped out the photos and shakily handed them to T and with great effort on my part talked about my cute little guys.

And then horror upon horror, we still had 12 minutes to go. What to do? The strangest phenomenon of the perception of time passing occurs in a therapy session. For months, I’ve felt that 50 minutes is not enough time. I had spent all that time in past sessions unloading myself onto T and never felt that I had finished what I wanted to say those months but lately, now that the going is getting tougher, it seems like time moves very slowly and instead of feeling disappointed that I’ve run out of time, I’m now looking at the clock wishing the time is up. Strange, huh?

Well, to conclude (finally), T and I ended up discussing emotions, what they mean, how to manage them and on and on. I gained some new information. And I asked her if she had any slots open on Friday because I feel some momentum now and want to keep it going. Luckily she had a cancellation and I can see her then. We’re going to get into some much deeper territory and although I feel some trepidation, I am also excited about the possibilities.

When or how or whether we ever discuss the issues that I addressed in my letter, I have no idea. But the fact that I was able to bring them up at all is a major, major triumph for me.