I turned my attention towards the window, letting out an exhaustive sigh. I was trying my best to ignore the inquisitive stare being placed upon me by the elderly psychologist sitting only a few feet away. It was my third session with this guy, and I still haven't decided if I'm going to fully open up to him yet. We didn't hit it off right away, but he did have certain qualities about him that allowed me to give him another shot at this 'therapy' thing. I'm weird like that.
When you grow up in a household where nobody talks about anything, it's hard to start opening up later in life. It's hard to tell a grown man, sitting with his legs crossed a little too tightly, only 3 feet away from me, how I really feel. Hell, sometimes I don't even know how i feel. At least not in a way that I'm able to put it into words. So I bottle it up, keep it inside, and hope it goes away. I'm trying to stop doing that. Apparently, it's unhealthy and not good for my psyche. Maybe this is why I smoke weed. Just kidding. No I'm not.
The best analogy ever told to me, in reference to my psyche, was by a young, female shrink about ten years ago. She wasn't more than thirty years old, fresh out of grad school. I was living in Columbia, South Carolina at the time. I was only a few years removed from the military and I was working as a mortgage loan officer getting paid 100% Commission. If I didn't close loans, I didn't get paid. That environment is not conducive for a man with my issues. So I had a breakdown. I lost it. Instead of going to work, I went and sat in a park and cried. I was shaking uncontrollably for hours.
That day in the park is what led me to contact the gorgeous, analogy-laden, shrink. Only seconds prior to bestowing her numerous analogies upon me, she would always tilt her glasses down ever so slightly, allowing her sexy brown eyes to peer over her designer glasses, cocking her head slightly to one side, arching one eyebrow, with her mouth slightly agape. This classic pose was the same performed by hundreds of female porn stars only moments before they let they violently let their hair down, snatched the glasses off their face, and ripped their blouses' open. I loved that pose.
She leaned forward with her 'pose' that I was certain she rehearsed hundreds of times in a mirror, and said "Michael, you're like a big pot that has been filled to the brim with all of the problems and issues you've ever had in your life. That pot is now so full that even the smallest of problems or issues can cause it to overflow. Because you've never discussed any of your issues in life, you're now unable to handle even the smallest occurrence without having an anxiety attack." I couldn't tell what I liked more, the analogy or the 'pose'. Several weeks (and sessions) later, she and I would have a disagreement, which led to me telling her how much I wanted to fuck her. She then responded by politely declining that offer. Lesbian.
The kind, older gentlemen, with 14 diplomas on his wall, sitting across from me, repeated his question.
"What is it that's really troubling you, Michael?" He had such a way with words.
"Everything......and nothing." No other words have ever described more accurately how I feel. Everything and Nothing.
In the past, the anxiety attacks and bouts of depression could be caused by a certain event, or occurrence. Many times, it's unavoidable. It's just nature running its course. I can feel it coming days in advance. The depression is the worst. Physically, it will weigh on me. At its onset, it can be a small, constant lump in my throat that can't be cleared. That is usually followed by a large, gravitational weight being placed on my shoulders, causing them to slump. The weight continues to increase, as the hours progress. Unknowingly, my gaze will continue to lower, until eye contact is only made with the ground that lay before me. My thoughts become dark and oppressed, and my bed is my only place of solace.
Today, I refuse to go back to that place. Now I keep my head held high, my shoulders back, and my chest out. I still have 'bad' days from time to time, but they're manageable. Now, they're just a part of life and not some crippling force that causes me to use all of my sick days at work by August. After 20 years of trial and error, I think i'm starting to get this thing right.
After rambling for several minutes about the universe and star alignment, the kind, gentle shrink gently tapped his watch to let me know my 50 minutes was up and it was time to go. I gazed down at the street below, watching the cars maneuver and jockey for position. Everybody just wants to get ahead, and they want to be the first ones there. They all seem normal and okay, yet i struggle. It's cool, though. I'm learning to embrace it. It defines me. I haven't had a bad bout of depression in almost a year and a half, when I used to have them once a month. I've had only a few minor anxiety attacks in the past year, and I plan on never having another.
I'm on the verge of great things, I just have to keep headed in the right direction. And if talking to this kind, old man twice a month is part of that path, than so be it. So I pay this guy a couple hundred a month, to assist me with breaking down my walls, and understanding 'Me' just a little bit more. I figured that if I'm going to do some great things on this journey, I might as well try to understand me the best that I can.
Me: Good Luck with that, Big Mike.
Big Mike: Thanks. I love you.
Me: Love you too homey.
When you grow up in a household where nobody talks about anything, it's hard to start opening up later in life. It's hard to tell a grown man, sitting with his legs crossed a little too tightly, only 3 feet away from me, how I really feel. Hell, sometimes I don't even know how i feel. At least not in a way that I'm able to put it into words. So I bottle it up, keep it inside, and hope it goes away. I'm trying to stop doing that. Apparently, it's unhealthy and not good for my psyche. Maybe this is why I smoke weed. Just kidding. No I'm not.
The best analogy ever told to me, in reference to my psyche, was by a young, female shrink about ten years ago. She wasn't more than thirty years old, fresh out of grad school. I was living in Columbia, South Carolina at the time. I was only a few years removed from the military and I was working as a mortgage loan officer getting paid 100% Commission. If I didn't close loans, I didn't get paid. That environment is not conducive for a man with my issues. So I had a breakdown. I lost it. Instead of going to work, I went and sat in a park and cried. I was shaking uncontrollably for hours.
That day in the park is what led me to contact the gorgeous, analogy-laden, shrink. Only seconds prior to bestowing her numerous analogies upon me, she would always tilt her glasses down ever so slightly, allowing her sexy brown eyes to peer over her designer glasses, cocking her head slightly to one side, arching one eyebrow, with her mouth slightly agape. This classic pose was the same performed by hundreds of female porn stars only moments before they let they violently let their hair down, snatched the glasses off their face, and ripped their blouses' open. I loved that pose.
She leaned forward with her 'pose' that I was certain she rehearsed hundreds of times in a mirror, and said "Michael, you're like a big pot that has been filled to the brim with all of the problems and issues you've ever had in your life. That pot is now so full that even the smallest of problems or issues can cause it to overflow. Because you've never discussed any of your issues in life, you're now unable to handle even the smallest occurrence without having an anxiety attack." I couldn't tell what I liked more, the analogy or the 'pose'. Several weeks (and sessions) later, she and I would have a disagreement, which led to me telling her how much I wanted to fuck her. She then responded by politely declining that offer. Lesbian.
The kind, older gentlemen, with 14 diplomas on his wall, sitting across from me, repeated his question.
"What is it that's really troubling you, Michael?" He had such a way with words.
"Everything......and nothing." No other words have ever described more accurately how I feel. Everything and Nothing.
In the past, the anxiety attacks and bouts of depression could be caused by a certain event, or occurrence. Many times, it's unavoidable. It's just nature running its course. I can feel it coming days in advance. The depression is the worst. Physically, it will weigh on me. At its onset, it can be a small, constant lump in my throat that can't be cleared. That is usually followed by a large, gravitational weight being placed on my shoulders, causing them to slump. The weight continues to increase, as the hours progress. Unknowingly, my gaze will continue to lower, until eye contact is only made with the ground that lay before me. My thoughts become dark and oppressed, and my bed is my only place of solace.
Today, I refuse to go back to that place. Now I keep my head held high, my shoulders back, and my chest out. I still have 'bad' days from time to time, but they're manageable. Now, they're just a part of life and not some crippling force that causes me to use all of my sick days at work by August. After 20 years of trial and error, I think i'm starting to get this thing right.
After rambling for several minutes about the universe and star alignment, the kind, gentle shrink gently tapped his watch to let me know my 50 minutes was up and it was time to go. I gazed down at the street below, watching the cars maneuver and jockey for position. Everybody just wants to get ahead, and they want to be the first ones there. They all seem normal and okay, yet i struggle. It's cool, though. I'm learning to embrace it. It defines me. I haven't had a bad bout of depression in almost a year and a half, when I used to have them once a month. I've had only a few minor anxiety attacks in the past year, and I plan on never having another.
I'm on the verge of great things, I just have to keep headed in the right direction. And if talking to this kind, old man twice a month is part of that path, than so be it. So I pay this guy a couple hundred a month, to assist me with breaking down my walls, and understanding 'Me' just a little bit more. I figured that if I'm going to do some great things on this journey, I might as well try to understand me the best that I can.
Me: Good Luck with that, Big Mike.
Big Mike: Thanks. I love you.
Me: Love you too homey.
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