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“None whatsoever.”
She makes a show of lowering her glasses down the bridge of her nose and darting her gaze to my lap, where my balled-up fists lie.
“You haven’t done that in a while,” she says matter-of-factly.
I shove my hands into my pockets.
“Just a reflex, I guess. Nothing to worry about.”
“Reflex of what? That’s the real question you should be asking yourself, don’t you think, Nathan?”
“Why should I be asking any questions when you already have an extensive list of your own,” I mutter in annoyance.
“I would have assumed you’d be used to it by now. I mean, we have been seeing each other for over a month now.”
“Doesn’t make it any less annoying.” I frown.
“I’m sorry to hear that, but it won’t stop me from probing more about your family life.”
There is no family. I’ve never had one to speak of. Not in the traditional sense, at least.
“Can we switch to talking about something else? Like you said, I’m in a mood, and talking about the past will only make it worse.”
“Nate—”
“I’m serious, Doc. Just drop it,” I demand a bit aggressively, which only makes me feel like shit since the therapist isn’t the reason why I’m so fucking pissed.
Whenever my past comes knocking and invading my present, I always get this way.
“Nathan, use your tools. The ones we talked about,” she says steadily.
Most people would have run out the door with my abrupt and aggressive tone, but Doc? She handles it like a pro.
“Right. Tools. Okay,” I mutter under my breath, recalling the mantra she has me repeating whenever something sparks my fury.
Admit that you’re angry, not only to yourself but also to the person who triggered such anger.
“I’m angry because I don’t want to talk about my parents. I’m not angry at you, Doc, just how the situation makes me uncomfortable.”
She doesn’t say anything, letting me run through the to-do list inwardly.
Believe you can control your anger. Tell yourself that you can!
“I am stronger than my anger. I can let myself feel it and recognize it for the useless emotion that it is and not give it any power over me,” I announce, going right to the next step.
Calm down. Control your anger.
I breathe in and out, counting backwards from ten until I feel my tense muscles relax.
Once you are calm, decide how to solve the problem that triggered such a feeling.
Express yourself assertively. You can ask for what you need without any aggression being involved.
“I’m sorry for having blown up the way I did,” I say calmly. “But I’m not yet ready to talk about how I grew up or why the subject triggers me.”
“Thank you, Nathan.” She smiles, genuinely pleased with the progress I’m making. “I promise not to probe you further on the matter today. But I’d like to circle back to this subject once you feel you can tackle it.”
“Yeah, whatever.” I shrug, feeling utterly exhausted.
