shrink my head, not my dreams

I have enrolled myself in the hideous cliche known as "therapy." It has been two months since my beloved Katherine, the therapist who got me on a better road despite my ridiculously stubborn behavior, has jumped ship to go to Boston.
Of course, that is the first thing that the new therapist, I will call him El Doctor, wanted to talk about.
"Were you angry when Katherine left?" He had his notepad at the ready.
"No. People leave. It was a f*cking opportunity for her. I would have done the same thing."
"Hmm. Okay, but what would you say to her now."
"How's things in Boston? I don't f*cking know. Something like that."
"You seem very rational about the whole thing."
"I'm a rational person most times."
"Any other thoughts?" He scribbled a bit, then kept a steady eye on my darting glances and restless foot. More notes.
"Well, maybe that I was jealous of that fact that she had a new baby and her husband seemed supportive."
"Jealous...okay. And...?"
"I don't know, maybe a little cynical of her situation. You know, new baby, moving, new start. I wanted to say good f*cking luck with that one, girlie." My foot was going nuts at this point.
"You like the f-word don't you?" He laughed a little.
"I don't like it, per say. It is one of my safe words."
I could see the question mark forming on his forehead, I just waved my hand. "You know what, don't worry about it. I use it a lot. I will try to stop. It's offensive, I know, I know."
"Maybe you're the one who has been offended this whole time."
"What do you mean?"
And that, my darlings, is when the Red Sea parted and sand flew up in big wet globs as the waves crashed on both sides of life.
"I mean, that you've been offended for so long, now you are defending yourself against it. Do you tell people if they've upset you or if you're upset and not feeling exactly cheery that day? Do you give them a chance to see you as you really are, in all of your moments."
I nearly choked on my coffee.
"Why the f*ck would I do that? I don't want to burden people with my sh*t. My sh*t sucks. It's a downer. It makes people uncomfortable."
"When did you last keep something to yourself?"
"Um, right before I got here."
"And...?"
"And in March, the day before I met someone I now find myself liking too much, I buried one of my students. She died in a car accident. I met this guy, happenstance in a cafe, and I was as raw as could be. And he still wanted to talk to me."
"Did you tell him you went to a funeral the day before? Did you tell him you were sad?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I didn't want him to know the kind of sh*t I carry around with me, I guess. I don't f*cking know. He probably wouldn't give a sh*t anyway."
"That's a harsh assumption. He's a human being right? He should know more of you, right?"
"Maybe sometime. Maybe sometime later. When I'm sure it's safe." More scribbling in the pad. More foot craziness.
"How will you know when it's safe, Nichole?"
Good question, Doc. I have no idea. When is it safe to let some things out? When is it safe to tell someone, anyone, that you are a walking fracture? When's a good time to say, "Hey, you know, the first man I ever loved hanged himself. That was fun." Or how about leaning over to him in the movie theater, while he's slurping loudly on a Coke and laughing and whispering, "Baby, guess what, when I was five months pregnant the baby daddy, my boyfriend of 3 years, left me high and dry."
Yeah, f*cking right. Ever see those cartoons where the character is running so fast that lightening and flames shoot out of their shoes? That's what that business would look like.
"Have you told him anything about yourself. Not the funny stuff, but anything serious?"
"Um, once, in an attempt to comfort him, I hinted at the fact that my little brother tried to ice himself two years ago."
"Ice..himself? You mean...commit suicide?"
"Yeah, something like that."
"And what did he say when you told him?"
"Not a f*cking word. Not even a 'huh."
"Huh. Interesting."
Keep scribbling, Doc. My friend's 3-year-old daughter has an expression that I think I will be using a lot this summer.
"AWWW-KWWARD! Poopy-face."
It's cute when she says it.