Saturday, October 21, 2006

Happy Hour - Friday, 6:00 p.m.

Normally on Friday evenings I can't wait to get home from work and wind down. Just plain veg out. Stare at the t.v. or stare at homework assignments. I don't want to talk to anyone - I don't want anyone to talk to me. I'm in class every other week night, so on Friday's it feels good to drive my butt straight home.

However, on last Friday I had an appointment with my therapist. Those of you out there who are in therapy can already see where I'm going with this. Those of you who are not in therapy probably have questions. Question: Who in their right mind wants to go to therapy at happy hour on Friday? Answer: I am NOT in my right mind. I don't even remember when I made/agreed to the freakin "happy hour head shrinking session". But it was set.

I waffled all afternoon, forgetting and remembering the appointment. Thinking of reasons to cancel. Feeling guilty for canceling. Thinking back to the last session (2 weeks prior), remembering the uncomfortable questions asked right before the session was over. Questions I was supposed to have an answer to for the start of this session. So, the people in my head commenced to argue back and forth. "Goddamn it! We grown, We ain't going to this shit today. I don't know why she wants US to answer the effing questions, WE are clearly nuts. Ain't she supposed to have the damn answers. Can't we just go home and order a pizza, put our extra fluffy socks on and watch t.v. We don't even have to take a shower we don't want to........" It went on like this for hours.

So, I'm on my punk ass way to therapy. I get there, she offers me tea, as she has done so many times before. This time I accept, unlike all of the other times when I thought it would be too much trouble or cut into my forty-five minutes (don't get it twisted, you do not get an hour). I even inquired as to the "tea options" available to me, and I waited patiently while she listed them off as though she was my waitress. I chose the pineapple ginger blend, and waited patiently for the session to begin. Hell, let's waste time. I don't want to talk anyway.

Some forty-three minutes later I had had not one, but four lightbulb moments. This was one of the best sessions I have ever experienced. I don't say that to be sarcastic or flip in any way. I really did "get" a few things. I had some breakthoughs. Things that I may have heard before, thought before, or maybe even told someone else - But this was different. It was my time.

I'm so glad I went. I'm glad I didn't let my fatigue, and doubt stop me from getting to the appointed time and place for me to receive my breakthrough. I trudged on - I was open - and present.

And I got some pineapple ginger tea to boot.

4 comments:

! Hey Lindsay ! said...

I'm proud of you, and I love you.

P.S.I should asked for a therapist for my birthday maybe I could've had some "lightbulb moments too". J/P,
luv ya Tay

www.mandicandies.com said...

Well damn, if she's handing out lightbulbs, I need some! What's her number?

Angie said...

@ Tay - Your father's insurence does not cover therapy. LOL Love you too.

@ miss mandi - I don't think there is a therapist alive equipped to deal with your "illness". Maybe rehab. LOL Love you.

James Burnett said...

Kudos for keeping your appointment. Therapy don't work if you don't keep it up. And you must have some kind of willpower to do it over happy hour. So you deserve even more props.