Visiting my therapist and losing the last bit of composure

I went to see my therapist today. I’m always anxious to go and always arrive on time. My therapist doesn’t speak to me. But if I listen, I hear all about the subject matter. I just have to show up on time. I usually have trouble hearing for the first part of the session, but once we are underway, I figure out the lesson of the day.

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Another curious thing about my therapist who doesn’t speak to me, is that the location of our session  is always changing. There is no office to go to. I usually have a vague idea where it’s at, but never quite know for sure. Oddly enough, I always seem to show up at the right place, even though the lesson of the day may not be what I was expecting. Today I was expecting to hear about enjoying life without expectations. That’s what I thought I heard early on at least. Then, I got the painful truth. Today’s work would focus on frustration and learning to not beat myself up too badly.

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Today was about holding a sure thing in the palm of my hand only to see it slip away. But the irony of the session was that I never got to hold the thing in my hand – I was only led to believe that it would end up there. So I guess the original lesson of expectations still had some merit.

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Long story, short – I went to the river today expecting little. Had my hopes elevated with the sight of splashing steelhead. I even managed to briefly hook one before it broke me clean off. These were big bright fish. Now, shaking, a bit frustrated, but determined, I swim my marabou prawn through the water again and just where it should be – BAM – the solid grab and another broken line. If I write anymore about my feelings over this whole affair, it would not be appropriate for viewing by younger folks and others offended by certain four letter words.

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I have another appointment with my therapist late tomorrow afternoon. I already know the subject matter of the session.

Sandstone bluffs of the Wildcat Group provided the sounding board (read: echo) for the cursing and swearing that could be head along the river this afternoon.  Note the small hole near the center of the bluff - a drain hole for the railroad tunnel that passes through.
Sandstone bluffs of the Wildcat Group provided the sounding board (read: echo) for the cursing and swearing that could be head along the river this afternoon. Note the small hole near the center of the bluff - a drain hole for the railroad tunnel that passes through.

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