Michaelishious - Vol. 2020

Dec. 17th: Therapy (Pt. 2)

Almost a week later, I knocked on my therapist's door. He greeted me like normal, but I was already tense like a fiddle.

"Where is it?" I asked and let my eyes scan his office for the expected threat. And there, on the middle of the coffee table, was a glass cage with a large, hairy spider in it.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" I repeated, fully convinced that I'd die within the next thirty minutes, or maybe sooner. Worst case scenarios flew through my head, where the spider escaped and attacked us with spitting venom that etched through our skin, or that it grew into an abnormal size and filled the entire room, until it climbed to the outside of the building like an eight legged King Kong.

"Hold my hand, Gina. You don't have to sit down yet. You're scared because you feel like you don't have control over the situation. But you do. The spider can't go anywhere, and you actually have the power to remove it from the room. But only if you do it on your own."

"As in touching the cage?"

Michael nodded and walked closer to stand behind me as emotional support, and boy did I need that.

"Won't happen. Ever."

"And the kiss?" Michael questioned with one eyebrow up and the other one down. That brought my focus on him, or more precisely; his lips.

"Okay. Let's sit down," I said with renewed determination. But I was relieved when Michael only wanted us to walk closer to the cage and not fully sit down in front of it.

"Keep breathing, calm and deep. Listen to my voice and let it channel your fear through something outside your body and away from the spider."

"Mhm," I said and bit my lip so hard it hurt, and I saw Michael noticed. I think I even heard him exhale a little louder than normal, although I couldn't be quite sure.

"Look at me, then back to the spider. That programs your brain to know that it's okay to turn your back toward the thing you're scared of, which in this case is the spider. It's not as threatening as before because you're in control."

I hesitated a little too long, so he placed his large hand on my cheek and pulled to face him.

"Look into my eyes, Gina. You're safe."

The spider was already on its way into the back of my mind, instead of paralyzing me with terror. All I could see was my therapist's dark orbs that held his soul, and it was like I could see a special glow in them.

"How does it feel?"

"Good, I guess."

He placed his hand around the back of my neck and pulled me close enough so our foreheads met. My heart was raging, but this time it wasn't because of the thing on the table. I suddenly didn't care about that at all. All I wanted was to feel his lips covering mine.

"How about now?" he murmured, and his eyes were sparkling like he knew how badly I wanted him.

"It feels great," I whispered and felt his breath tickle the microscopic hairs on my face.

"Good. Then we can proceed."

He pulled away with a little gasp of air, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say that he felt the same electric energy as me.

"Let's sit down."

I just looked at him. Did he mean normal sitting or me sitting on his lap? But I didn't have to ask, because after he'd sat down, he looked at me with such expectation that there was no doubt.

"Just... Uhm, to make you feel safe. You know, moral support and stuff," he mumbled and looked away.

"Are you sure it's gonna stay in there?"