Taking Agency

I had never been good at expressing my feelings. Maybe that is why they felt I should ‘talk it out’. The whole thing was stupid. All it made me feel was worse. Seeing a psychiatrist just made me feel like I was letting everyone down; that I was a failure. I wasn’t even honest when I spoke with him. Maybe that was part of the issue. Maybe he was right and I was sabotaging myself by not ‘taking agency’, as was his line.

He loved clever one-liners like that. They were supposed to make me feel like he was relating to me. That I was supposed to suddenly understand. The heavens were to open up and all would be clear. Really though, they just make me sick. I hated them. They all felt fake, a safe response to not upset me because of how fragile I was. He hid behind his sayings like I hid behind a smile.

We all had our masks. What we choose for others to see. It is our armor against an unkind world. I am not any different, my crime is not my silence, but that somebody, the wrong somebody, saw though my mask. That is why I am here. It is not because of my unresolved issues or my relationship with my family or any of that. I am here because my mask cracked and they decided I needed to be saved.

He was talking again. I could hear the dull mummer of his flaccid voice. I stopped listening to the words sometime last week. I could tell by his tone and cadence what my answer was supposed to be. He knew, I was sure, but if he wanted to play this game, fine.

This time he wanted me to lie down. I hated his little arched sofa. Lying down was supposed to make me comfortable physically and then I would be comfortable emotionally and the words would just come pouring out. I hated the stupid thing. I was too soft. It squeezed around me; made me feel trapped, suffocated.

I wordlessly raised my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs. It was probably how he knew I was lying. My body language was terrible. I couldn’t bring myself to care. So what if he knew I was lying. It was his job to know anyway.

Besides, I knew he was hiding behind his mask. Fair was fair. We the same really. All we had to do was switch seats. I knew the questions I didn’t what asked. I could sit with a smug grin and throw questions out and let the silence hang uncomfortably. Anyone can stare wit knowing eyes when they hadn’t a clue. I could even have my own cute little sayings and no one would know. All he had was a title that meant nothing to me.

Worse than nothing. Nothing would have been a stranger, but baring so self-important label made him feel like he could have unlimited access to everything that make me, me. His arrogance was nauseating. His demeanor was sordid. He belonged here and not me.

This is probably where he came from. He was me in this disgusting sofa. He was one of the lost children who were saved from themselves and because one of his types led him from darkness, he is here to return the favor. Well I am not drinking the Kool-Aid. I am me and I am fine how I am. He can yammer on all he likes. He can keep talking until this session runs over again and blame me for it all he likes. I am not changing for anyone.