Therapy is not quite what I expected it to be.
You walk in, introduce yourself to the counsellor and the video camera. Discussions ensue about the what and why’s you are here in this room with no windows and soft florescent lights glow. Try to avoid looking at the video camera as much as possible while reminiscing about yourself as a kid, a highschool bookworm and a precocious college camera brat.
Wave your hands a lot: it will distracting you from fidgeting with zippers and fringes on couches, not to mention twiddling your toes and glancing at the clock’s hand above her head. Stare at the giant bowl of candy several times before consumption begins.
Worry about talking too much. Discuss where it happened and why you did what you did. Start feeling nervous. You gotta do what you gotta do ‘back then. Isolate the trigger of these reactions. Eat more candy and drink water. Forget the video camera is still recording.
The point of this blog entry was to discuss about everything without discussing it at all.
Anyways.*
Yesterday I met up with an old highschool friend for coffee, it’s been almost a year since our previous rendezvous at a mutual acquaintance’s funeral and nearly a decade since we bashed textbooks at one another in math class.
And in a way, it relates to therapy lately, resurrecting old feelings and half-forgotten memories of friends; the relationships we once had now replaced with their invisible non-existence in the present. It’s unnerving, to say the least (which I can’t go into detail here, unfortunately). Truthfully, the other longest friendship I’ve carried with me is 12 years running but we’re not very close. (Was that late, late elementary years?)
With my current and present relationship ties with friends, classmates, co-workers and potential lovers, it’s still too difficult to introduce an aspect of myself that no longer exists, but which is necessary to understand the why of my identity-today. It’s a scary thought.