A Genuinely Authentic Gift or Curse

It took me a long time to find a psychologist I found success with.

This isn’t because my previous counselors or therapists or psychologists weren’t skilled in their own ways. I wasn’t skilled at listening. I wasn’t skilled at trying new stuff. I wasn’t skilled at being honest with my issues because my main concern was to be likable.

I shudder to think about how much of their time I wasted. I shudder more to think of my own. I wasn’t there yet. I couldn’t apply any of my limited knowledge to my own life and I couldn’t find it in me to truly dig deeper.

When I was washing my hair this morning it occurred to me that it kind of all snowballed out of control when we attempted couples therapy.

To say that endeavor went south is an understatement. What happened instead was a snap in my psyche that was frightening to me, behaviour that was out of character and a desperate plea for help I wrote to said counselor immediately afterwards. He responded quickly and referred me to a Doctor who would both see and reach me like few have.

It’s not that he brought me through exercises to heal my wounds. He and I didn’t do any hypnosis or guided meditations that changed my life. It was more that he asked me the questions that I had never been asked in a way that shed new light on old perspectives.

During one conversation he asked me for a list of conditions for intimate partnership. I paused and said I wasn’t sure I was in a position to be making requests of anyone. He immediately corrected this by reiterating the word, “conditions”.

“I didn’t say requests, I said conditions. Things that you want in a relationship that, without which, you’d rather be alone.”

I scoffed, repeating his final word in pure indignation. “Does that come with the cats or am I supposed to collect those myself?”

The concept of “I’d rather be alone” was wildly foreign and extremely uncomfortable. I wrote it off at the time as, “not for me”.

Sometimes I still have a really hard time with it. There are some seeds that grow despite our best efforts to stop them. This was one such monster.

He asked me about my memory once. I don’t remember talking about it specifically but the way in which I recount things can stand out to people who are paying attention. The Doctor asked me if taking photos of everything helps me commit things to memory. I had never thought about it but indeed, photos serve as a snapshot in my mind as much as they exist in the physical world.

He followed that by asking me if I photographed much at home.

The answer wasn’t surprising, just something I’d never put together. Gradually I had stopped taking photos because there were less and less parts I wanted to remember.

I’m not the easiest person to surprise with conversation. Few things shock me and fewer things render me speechless.

My Doctor asked this as nonchalantly as a person would ask me the time. Without much preamble to speak of, he simply inquired, “what’s it like being the smartest person in the room most of the time?”

There is something about it coming up this way. I’m not a psychologist but I think this is an excellent test of personality type just the same.

He asked it like it was a well known, widely accepted fact. I have not felt this way about myself and, quite honestly, the idea I possess something out of the ordinary in this way feels uncomfortable.

I do understand it to be true on a logical level because the evidence suggests it. If nothing else, my college accomplishments prove I can throw down in academia.

A very smart, very educated man used affirmative language to state my level of intelligence that implied it wasn’t up for debate. That made me really ponder his question in a moment of silence before I began to explain.

“I am a chronically early person. Insanely concerned about the time. I’ll be at the rendezvous half an hour early almost every time. I have no expectation that the other party will be early, I’m happy to sit and wait. There’s a ten minute window before or after the agreed meeting time that is completely within what I expect. I take no notice of these arrivals because they’re on par with the average level of late or early. If someone is really late I will notice and if they’re as early as I am I will REALLY notice. That’s how conversation works, too. If I have to slow down for someone I’ll notice. If everything I say makes sense, I’ll notice that, too.

It’s funny how sometimes things just need the right tool to click into place.

And sometimes things you try to click into place just don’t fit together.

One day I’ll know who I really am. One day.