crazywonderful

A year and a half ago, my therapist moved from her digs in Vancouver to a place in North Van. For the most part, this hasn’t had a huge impact on my life. My travelling time is about the same, if somewhat more vertically oriented than it used to be; the North Shore is stuck to the side of the mountains and therefore kind of hilly. North Vancouver smells wonderful, so that’s an added bonus. The office is arranged mostly in the same way, except for one major change – the washroom, which I frequently visited before starting a session, is no longer attached in any way to her counselling space. It is on the other side of her basement, which one has to walk through personal living space to get to. One of my elimination quirks is that I have to go especially often when I am nervous, and before a session, I am almost always nervous.
Before the move, I just walked in and if I had to go, I went. Now, I get there, and she comes downstairs, and we talk, and sometime between the thirty and sixty minute mark, I hear nature calling, in increasingly strident tones. So part of me is listening to what she is saying, and part of me is searching for a reasonable place to interrupt. Some days, it is all I can do not to raise my hand. Eventually, a semi-reasonable opportunity presents itself, or I become desperate, and feeling like I am back in grade three, I ask my question. And every single time since the move, she pauses, tilts her head to the side for a few seconds, and eventually says, “Yeah…sure.”
This pause always makes me want to say, in my inimitably passive-aggressive fashion, “Never mind, it’s totally okay. I’ve really only heard of one case where someone’s bladder actually exploded, and though he died, that was in the middle ages, so I’m sure I’ll be fine.” But the thing is, if I’m physically uncomfortable, I can’t concentrate, and besides the fact that I’m paying to be there, concentrating on what’s being said is kind of the whole fucking point.
I have had many opportunities to wonder what exactly was going on inside the Wise Woman’s head during the pause. I think what first freaked me out about the whole hesitation thing is, it resembles exactly the way she’s reacted the two or three times I have said something so out of left field that it has visibly thrown her off. And I don’t understand what about this request would do that to her.
What I finally decided, based on a comment she once made about her daughter’s art project in the middle of the room, is that she was mentally trying to determine the state of cleanliness the place was in (i.e. has my child left my basement in complete disarray, and do I care if this freak sees it?) and left it at that.
Then three weeks ago, after she paused she said, “I keep worrying that my laundry room door isn’t closed.”
It was clearly my turn to hesitate, so I did, and then I couldn’t help but ask, “Why, what do you keep in there?”
“Laundry,” she said, and I feigned horror, partly to disguise my giddiness at finally knowing what was going on, and partly because I find it difficult to go for more than five minutes without being sarcastic. She said she just had a thing about it, and I said, with feeling, that I understood about things. Happily, this also explains why she almost always escorts me through the open room to the other side of the basement where the washroom is. Apparently, she isn’t worried I’m going to make a break for it. She’s just making sure the laundry room door – adjacent to the bathroom door – is closed.
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Questioning/Examining:
Before last week, when was the last time someone called me sassy?
Grateful/Relieved:
For a high pain tolerance.
Regret/Deny:
Reading the fantasy/romance Nora Roberts novel that Laura had laying around last weekend. Now I want straight sex and magical powers, dammit!
Musing/Reflecting:
It is extremely important to be very, very specific with one’s esthetician. Especially when said esthetician is brandishing hot wax near your privates.
Whistling/Humming:
More Than This – Norah Jones
Reading/Scanning:
Psychedelic Republicans Trading Cards
Shout out to:
Tycho Brahe