In Blog 9, I had been complaining like a whiny baby to my therapist about why I was so distraught. My fear over my son’s Tourette Syndrome, as well as a breakdown in communication with my husband, had taken its toll on my emotions. Like a roller coaster, I was up and down, up and down. I was freaked out and dizzy from the ride. Sadly for me, the only steady factor in my life was a sense of foreboding, including being on the edge of panic attacks for weeks.

“This wasn’t what I signed up for when I said, ‘I do!’” I wailed to Sam. “If I had known how crappy everything would turn out, I would have made my vows more specific!”

Sam laughed. “Specific as in what? ‘I do’ take my husband and any future children willingly into my life, as long as they don’t ever bug me or come with any unexpected diagnoses?’”

“I don’t like you,” I said, throwing my sarcastic jibe like a practiced knife thrower.

“Yeah you do,” he said, equally practiced at dislodging the blade. “In fact, you’re gonna love me, because you’re gonna be feeling better before you know it. Nice shoes by the way.”

I looked down at a vintage pair of neon pink Kangaroo sneakers. Purchased at a thrift store for $7.99, they sported tiny side pockets and aqua blue laces. Like this therapist’s claim, they emulated confidence and audacity.

“Is that compliment your way of distracting me from my pity party?” I said.

“Not really. I do like your shoes,” he said. “They smack of fun and outrageousness. I have a feeling that your general soul is not too far off from that… when you’re not cursing and moaning your fate, of course.” He clucked in faux sympathy.

Clearly this person didn’t take me so seriously. Either he was a complete unfeeling dork of a therapist, or he was a lovely sprinkle of ice cream on my down in the doldrums sundae. The verdict was still out.

“So I haven’t scared you off yet?” I said, unapologetically looking for reassurance.

“Far from it!” he smiled sincerely. “I’m actually really glad you can be honest with me about your feelings. So many people aren’t. And that’s why I know you’re going to be okay.”

“What is the magic formula?” I asked.

“Jesus,” he said.

“Ah, here we go,” I thought to myself. “The ‘Anything is possible with Jesus’ speech. Then again, he likes my shoes. He deserves a little credit.”

Later on I would tell my friend, Belinda, “I finally found a person who could help me. He was real and honest and wasn’t deterred by my big personality or brain!”

Belinda would shoot back a comment, “Translation: He didn’t put up with your crap?”

That just about sums it up.

Leave a comment: Check out my next blog where I’ll finish up the story of my first therapy session. Meanwhile, tell me, do you have someone you can be totally transparent with? If not, do you want to find someone?

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