Love, Poetry, & Coffee

~ 22 ~

This might be the worst and yet best thing that will happen to me. Being the worst since I didn't plan about what should I be talking about during my therapy session with my apartment neighbor. Being the best, since it'll keep my mind off the stunt I just did in the Café. In all honesty, I would literally do stupid stuff just for me to forget that stunt. Even try to talk to a therapist until I forgot about it entirely.

Glancing down at the business card in my hand, I'm not even sure if I'm doing to the right path. The address is quite new to me and I haven't gotten to this part of town. Can I just mention how lively yet quiet it is? There's as much as people as there are trees all around, and it's not quite a busy street. The only thing that enters my auditory senses are the distant chirping of the birds above the clear blue sky. Something about the gentle light breeze, the sound of rustling leaves, the soft tapping of shoes against the concrete, and the birds' distant chirps makes my body feel relaxed in a way that no messaging appliance can give.

Did Kate choose this spot for her office so that before the person go to her, they'll feel relaxed with how much gentleness on these streets? If so, that's quite a clever business strategy.

I don't know if I'm close to her office, but at this point, I still don't know what to talk about? Should I talk about my past or my present? Perhaps I should start with the past since Kate is quite familiar to that, or maybe I'll just answer her questions during the session. But I don't think therapy session works that way, both parties should be communicating instead of the therapist asking the questions. I mean, how should I know anything about therapy? I haven't experienced it at all, so this is quite new to me. It's so new that I could feel my hands getting sweaty on each step I make towards the given address.

Why must I torture myself like this? I don't know, but my body still wants to go to therapy even if it's sweating uncontrollably. Why am I sweating anyway? There's nothing to be nervous about therapy, right? Again, I don't know what will happen once I'm in her office because this will be my first time experiencing it. I should have done a bit of research before going there.

Wait a minute, I have my phone with me. I can do some research now. Digging in my pockets to retrieve my trusty phone, thank God I didn't leave it in my apartment. Once my phone screen is open, I type in my question to the know-it-all Google.

What happens during a therapy session?

I've been sent to an article written by a therapist answering common questions about therapy. There are a lot of questions that I want to ask, so maybe everything is in this article. Although judging how the scroll bar looks while I scroll around, it's a long article. I don't think I have much time reading all of these. In result, I'm just scrolling down to see my actual question. After a while, I finally found the question "What really happens during a therapy session?", I slow down my pace to make sure I won't bump into someone while I read this long, long paragraph.

It says here that each session is, essentially, a problem-solving session. I'm supposed to describe my current situation, and my feelings about it, and then the therapist uses their expertise to assist me in trying to resolve that concern, so I can move closer to having the life I wish to have. Great, the thing I'm not quite good at, verbally saying my feelings. Is it fine if I just write-in on a piece of paper and just mail it? I am not convinced that would work, but I hope it will, though.

I scroll down a little bit to read the next paragraph. It continues to say that at the beginning of a session, the therapist will typically invite me to share what's been going on in my life, what's on my mind-every chaotic thoughts ever-what's bothering me-everything-or whether there are any goals I'd like to discuss-none I could think of. Am I doing it right? Probably not, and Kate will just be annoyed by me when I answer it in a non-enthusiastic way. Continuing on reading the paragraph, I then will be invited to speak openly while therapist will listen and may take notes as I speak; some, depending on what kind of therapist, but most therapist write down their patient's words. Well, I think Kate is the kind of person who'll take notes, especially how she handles her husband cheating on her. The thought of a strict Kate sends shivers down my spine, and to relieve from that feeling, I continue on my reading. It also says here that I won't be criticized, interrupted or judged as I speak-well, that's reassuring-and my conversation will be kept in the strictest confidentiality-very reassuring indeed. The article describes it as a special, unique type of conversation in which I can say exactly what I feel-with total honesty? Cross my heart and hope to die honesty?-without worrying that I'm going to hurt someone's feelings, damage a relationship, or be penalized in any way. Anything I want or need to say is okay. Is it, though? Is it? Why do I have a hard time believing that last statement?