Feeling ganged up on in a couple’s session, a client suddenly turned to me, pointed, and said, “Now you be quiet.” Understanding the reason behind their reaction, knowing it was okay for them to feel that way, and recognizing that it didn’t sit well with me, led to me standing and calmly stating, “I need a break, I’ll be back in a moment.” While they tried to persuade me to stay, I reassured them, “I’ll be right back; I just need a moment.”
Wow, two hours have passed since that session, and as I wrote this out, I glanced down at my Smart Watch, and it’s registering my heart rate at 104 beats per minute.
So, I decided to make some adjustments. I moved from my desk to the couch, propped my feet on one arm, and rested my head on the other. I’m now consciously taking deep breaths through my nostrils, hearing the whoosh of air as it fills my belly and then releases. I’m listening to the rhythmic clicks of the keys and watching my fingers move. I’m also taking in the room around me, from the window to the slight dent in the ceiling, and the half-full garbage can. A glance at the side table reminds me that I need to bring more tissues with me to work tomorrow. Fortunately, my 6 p.m. appointment used their sleeve.
This reminds me of my first therapy session at 26 years old, especially the intense crying during the second or third visit. Lori was my counselor, with her trim physique, stylish short haircut, and trendy wardrobe. Her eyes had a way of getting bigger like Puss N Boots, drawing out pain from me like a psychic summoning spirits. I wonder if I used her tissues or if I discreetly wiped my face with my hands. I imagine it was the latter because I felt ashamed of crying in front of her and using a tissue might have made it more of a production than I wanted. The other thing I recall was that I was a cash-paying client. Although such clients are now rare, I wonder if Lori, like me today, was grateful for the extra padding in her wallet.
I have a soft spot for cash, which goes back to my casino days when I always carried at least a thousand dollars on me. Those were the good old days—or so I momentarily think before retracting that notion. I remember the wad of cash but not all the other challenges I faced during that time. Scratch that. Today, I’ll happily take my wallet with $20 over the past.
I’ve noticed that I’m being less affected by the stressors in my life. It’s reflected in the lighter way I returned home tonight, in how I engaged in play with Evelyn—tonight it was a game with a jump rope where she played the horse, and I was the rider—and even in feeling closer to Dave. It’s subtle but noticeable, and I’m grateful for it.
Now, the topic of moving to Georgia looms. I’m not sure if it’s the magnitude of the change or the fact that my best friend Kristen expressed her concern, not being okay with my departure when she has so few friends. Is this what planted seeds of doubt in my decision? Maybe. I’m uncertain.
I should probably have a conversation with her. My worry is that I’ll try to manage her emotions and neglect my own. How can I balance both? I think I need to clarify a few things she said during our last conversation. Our schedules rarely align, but 7-8 a.m. on her drive down I-5 is my window of opportunity. If I’m asleep in the next hour, by 10 p.m., I should be able to make that call. That’s what I’ll aim for.
I’ll catch up with you tomorrow. With love, Jaclynn.
PS This post’s photo is a trick-or-treating gift. It’s not candy, just a squishy foam fish.
Going On 40 