This may be similar to what you are talking about, Rainbow, but I'm not sure. One of the things I've learned about myself is that at a very early age I learned how to "pretend" that I'm interacting with people. I taught myself how to smile in an engaging manner, I could talk in a humorous, jovial way that made people laugh with delight, I would gesture and talk about things I knew people were interested in (I knew what they were interested in because I had watched very closely and carefully to determine what they liked) and most of all, I would get them to talk about themselves. I've been told that I am an incredible listener. But you know what? I am really not present when I'm doing this. I'm acting. I was setting out a cardboard cut-out of a person, one sided, flat and without a real presence--a person that I thought others wanted to engage with. Of course, when I got into therapy, I learned that I do this in therapy too--big surprise, huh .

I often come into therapy with a pre-arranged topic or agenda. I'm not the kind of person who just walks in, flops down and lets whatever is in my head come to the surface. I HAVE to have a topic of conversation and I attempt to amuse and engage my therapist with my cut-out paper doll of a person. It didn't take her long to realize what I was doing. She didn't dismiss that part of me, but she caught on to my antics Slowly I've begun to realize that the person who performs in therapy keeps people at bay--I create superficial relationships so I don't have to go any deeper. It's friendship or relationships on my terms.

When I'm truly present in a session, I'm not trying to impress my therapist. I'm not trying to make her laugh or joke. I'm not trying to have an amusing or engaging conversation about what's going on at the weekly writer's group I attend. Basically when I'm truly present, I'm not trying to hide the real me. When I'm present, I often feel confused and discombobulated. I'm not always sure what or where my center is when I'm fully present. I can often feel a sliver of shame or humiliation when I'm fully present, as if I'm slightly off balance or off kilter. I have a hard time making eye contact because I'm struggling to remain hidden and I can't put on my cardboard face. That's what being fully present means to me--it usually means I'm totally raw and confused and trying to find my center. I know that doesn't make total sense, but it is what it is!