I never imagined a time where I would use the phrase, “my therapist said…” Years ago, it seemed so cliché. Yet, here I am thinking about my last visit, and there is no other way to put it.
Prior to my visit, I’d actually come to a conclusion that I no longer would need her services. I plopped down on the couch I began reporting how great everything was. We talked about the marathon, the boys, my new awareness of the need for companionship, and my awareness that this was at the root of my recent breathing/throat issue. It was all good. If I had got up immediately after this quick report, and never said another word, I would have left the room for the first time without having shed a tear. But, I didn’t stop there. I kept talking.
The topic of Mr. Football and Joe Facebook came up next: I described my inability to let go of the idea of a relationship with Mr. Football in spite of how little I get in return. She nodded as she listened and said that there was nothing wrong with just enjoying the fantasy (as long as I didn’t make any expectations based on it).
Then came the comparision to Joe Facebook who was ready to make a leap when I pulled out all the stops. As I described my feeling unsafe when in meeting complete strangers and providing them with information which I perceived as putting YaYa or myself at risk, she raised her eyebrows a bit. She remained skeptical even after I explained that I had been stalked when I was in my 20’s. Then, my therapist said that she wished she could guarantee that I would not experience heartache again. She pointed out that now that I had the realization that I needed companionship and intimacy, that eventually I would need to take that risk.
And I cried…because she was right, and I am just so scared.