It’s the second time she’s fourteen minutes late to a counseling session. After what I considered a poor excuse the first time, I set a limit; If you know you’re going to be late, I’d prefer a head’s up.
At fifteen minutes past, I’m gone and but it’s fourteen after, and that’s when this email notification slides across my screen, “On my way.”
My heart beats fast as I anticipate the inevitable conversation while my thoughts waterfall into pools and eddies. I can’t shake the feeling; she knew what she was doing and didn’t care.
I’m watching Una Familia Moderna (Modern Family) in Spanish with subtitles in Spanish. My comprehension is rough, so my mind strains to understand, like trying a chin-up while only being able to hang and shake.
About twenty minutes into our session, she says, “I look forward to our sessions all week.” This natural comment for her is fielded like a palm to the face by me.
“Then why are you late, even after I told you how important it is to me?”
“I honestly get so excited. This past weekend, I thought of everything I wanted to tell you. But.” Her eyes scan the distance, and then she turns to face me, “You know everything. And that scares me. So yeah, a day or two before this, I feel so insecure and pull away.”
I lightly cry at hearing her confession and experiencing vulnerability’s blooms as it’s exposed. “Oh my gosh,” I respond instantly. “Thank you so much for telling me. I just thought you didn’t care.”
Anyway, I’m blaming all this newfound vulnerability and drawing closer in my relationships on that dang book, “The Gift of Therapy.” Oh, and a reminder, I’ll do part 2 for the book club tomorrow.
Ok, time for season 1 episode 3, Fingers crossed I comprehend more than 20%.
Love ya, Jaclynn