The metallic flavor in the back of my throat grows more potent with each inhale, and the sides of my throat clasp together as if praying...begging me...to stop running. I can barely catch my breath. My throat feels as though it is bleeding. Collapsing my torso, I let out an exasperated sigh as my hands grab onto my knees for support. My legs are jello. I can't run anymore. I can't breathe. I can't hear anything except for the pounding of my heart pulsing in between my ears. A dizziness comes over me, and the sun goes out like an extinguished candle. I'm back in the darkness.

I awake to the sharp sensation of my cat biting my toe. Damn. It's so hot in here. I sit up and feel a sudden chill on my back. What the hell? Patting my hand on the bed, I notice the dampness. My hand wanders to my mid-back and it, too, is wet. Great. Sweaty. That's sexy...Guess I'm for sure taking a shower in the morning. Morning...that concept I dread during the typical Monday through Friday routine. Go back to sleep.

Bzzzt. Bzzzt. I slide myself to the edge of the bed and stumble across the dark bedroom to my dresser. Where'd I put my phone? My hand clumsily glides across the surface of the dresser, bumping into the familiar rectangular shape. I turn the alarm off and shuffle back to the edge of the king-size bed, plopping my weight onto the mattress and dragging myself back up towards my pillow. I can lay here another ten minutes before I have to get up. God. Every morning lately! What has gotten into you? You know laying back down after turning off the alarm does nothing but stall your morning routine... Well, it's my routine to jeopardize. Besides, who says I have to allot a certain amount of time to get ready for work? If I want to move fast, I can.... I just don't. Not today. I don't want to deal with ridiculous deadlines, unrealistic expectations, or personalities that don't jive with mine... But when do you? When do you really ever enjoy trying to impress people? When have you been thrilled to be completely stressed out over an assignment that ultimately never matures to something profound beyond its deadline status? When does immersing yourself in an environment saturated with personality types, varying degrees of hormones, and rampant emotions satisfy your desire for meaningful interaction? ....Hmm....Never...Wouldn't it be nice to live how I wanted? Crap! What time is it? I look over my husband's shoulder at the clock on the nightstand. Time to get moving.

I plant a kiss on his shoulder and scootch my way down to the edge of the bed once more. My cat jumps off the bed and follows me to the bathroom. "Kyzon, out of the way!" I whisper to our feline as he darts across my path and barely misses a collision with my foot. I flip on the light switch and am greeted by pleasant aquamarine walls that are beginning to bubble and crack. I should really stop taking hot showers with the door shut. But it's December, and it's chilly in here. I shiver and look at myself in the medicine cabinet mirror. Plain. My face looks so plain. No one feature seems to outshine another - I guess I should count my blessings. Kyzon hops onto the edge of the tub as I turn on the shower, and then I go about my normal routine: showering, fussing with my hair, brushing my teeth, and dressing for another day at work.

____________________________________________

Ouch. I barely caught the heavy glass door as it slammed into my forearm. Why do these buildings' doors have to be so heavy? Don't the fancy downtown building owners know people lack motor skills early in the morning? I make my way to the elevator banks, press floor button 24, and exit the elevator upon its arrival on the office floor. Shuffling my feet, I make my way to my cubicle and proceed to go about my morning work routine: set my phone on the charger, open up all relevant computer applications, gather files to be used in the coming hours, and grab a coffee from the kitchen. Within about 20 minutes, I'm focusing on my emails, jotting down lists of things to remember and to accomplish throughout the day. Just as I open a file to begin working, I receive two email notifications - both needing urgent responses. Welp, looks like it's going to be one of those days. Busy, busy bumble bee. And away I go in a day long ebb and flow of productivity. Soon enough my eight hour shift concludes, and I make my way back to the parking garage.

Alright, you still have 17 minutes before you have to be at Dr. Coyle's office. I unlock my car, hop in, and away I go down the highway to my therapist appointment. My therapist. Huh. I still don't like the way that sounds. Oh well, suck it up. The first session is the worst. You know the doctors always treat you like a sad, pathetic patient at first, until you tell your story. Give it a couple sessions, then, the doctor will see you as perfectly adjusted for someone in your situation and will discharge you from his treatment, as it will no longer seem necessary. Then, he'll feel like I'm some kind of miracle success story and he will feel a sense of reward and accomplishment, and I'll feel happy that I can finally stop 'getting another opinion' on my degree of sanity. I really need to be convinced this time that this award-winning doctor, whom by the way comes at a high premium, can say I am as good as I will ever be. "Take the exit right" chimes the pleasant female British vocals on my navigation system. I follow the directions as instructed and soon thereafter, find myself in front of three stories of suites built in the Colonial style. I take a few deep breaths, lock my car, and enter the building. To my right is a directory. Dr. Coyle....Dr. Coyle...Somewhere on the third floor...Oh! There. Suite 307.

I turn to the nearby staircase and ascend to the third floor. I wander down an off-white hallway with dark blue carpet until I find 307. I knock at the door with a somewhat faint rap. Do you really think anyone could hear that knock? What's wrong with you? Now you just look like a wimp. I knock harder but amidst my anxiety, it seems aggressive. The door suddenly opens, and I am caught off guard. "Oh! I didn't expect a response that quick!" I blurt out to the dark haired ..man? He looks like he's in college. What is going on?. This kid looks my age. I thought this doctor was ancient because he had all these awards..."Eve, I presume? You're punctual! Wonderful. Come right in," the man says, stepping aside to usher me in. As I enter, I'm hoping that maybe this guy is an intern. I glance around the small room, which is painted a light blue with pleasant wall decorations made from a combination of various metals and woods. "Please, take a seat," he says to me, motioning to another room straight ahead. I enter the second room, and it is mostly white with a couple shelves of books and games, a mini fridge, and two white plush loveseats facing each other. This....this is different. I'm used to sitting on a couch with the doctor in his office chair sitting behind a desk. We both sit down as he continues to say, "I'm Dr. Coyle, if you prefer to call me by 'doctor,' or you may call me Joseph, if first names make you more comfortable." He sits there politely smiling at me, waiting for me to respond. I take a few seconds to observe the purity of the white surrounding me, and in a way, it soothes my anxiety. "Well, since you offered up a first name option, I guess I'll go with that one," I casually reply. "Then, Joseph it is," he quips, "Do you have any questions for me before we begin?" He tilts his head to the left, as if to gain a different perspective of me.

I let out a long sigh, relax my spine, and fully allow myself to sink into the loveseat, "You're young, though I know that's not a question but rather a statement...an observation..." my thoughts begin to wander. He chuckles, "You are certainly correct - about both of the points you made. I am young by definition, but surely you know that appearances are only a fraction of what makes people who they are. You, yourself, are young." I snap out of my daydreaming and shoot back, "Yes. I'm young, and am always being treated as such. It used to annoy me, but now I have come to expect it." "Why did it annoy you?" he asks in almost a rhetorical manner. "It annoyed me because I was constantly being underestimated, overlooked, or thought of as inexperienced, which is the contrary...but now I know, no one can perceive the depth of a person at first glance. It's not their fault. Society tends to quickly judge young looking people under the assumption that they are somehow inadequate. What is my fault, though, is not being assertive and commanding a different rapport during the initial phases of relationships. I'm learning though." Sheesh, stop rambling. "You value the opinions of other people, I take it?" His question is leading, and I can tell he wants to use this as a segue. Hmm. "I'm not really sure if I care much about what other people think of me, as much as I care about my own opinions." Wow. You put that together quite nicely for having only taken point-three seconds to let that gush out. Next time, what you say could sound completely idiotic. You're allowed to analyze the question first, you know... But good job! He sits back further into the loveseat, and curiously replies, "Alright, Eve, I see that you are quite opinionated and insightful. I want to pick your brain this first session to see if there's any room for me to work within that cranium of yours. If I find some wiggle room, we'll make another appointment, but if I get stuck a few minutes into this conversation with you and we find that you can't let your guard down enough to answer some questions for me, then I think you are better off finding a different counselor with another communication style. Sound fair?" Absolutely fair! "Sure."

"Well, Eve, as you may have already noticed, my approach to therapy is.... a little unorthodox, but it's nothing too outside of the box. Did you like what I did just now?" A smile takes over my face as I jeer, "Very clever!" "But in all seriousness," he starts back up again, "I don't fill my sessions with 'fluff' talk, I get straight to the point in hopes to find the quickest, messiest, most clustered web of past tragedies entangled somewhere in the minds, the central programming center, of my patients. It's all about reprogramming. Do you know about reprogramming?" What the hell is he talking about? Unsure how to proceed, I answer carefully, "Um, well, I would say it sounds like something from the Matrix, but no, I'm not sure what you mean." He laughs and in between breaths says, "No, that's great! I have yet to hear that from anyone! I will have to remember that for the next conference. Reprogramming is the removal of bad memories and the replacement of those unwanted moments of time. It's a multi-step process. Each step requires all steps preceding it to be completed to their fullest extent. Each memory replaced is fabricated to it's richest context - visually, aurally, and sometimes scents are incorporated." "I can't say I have heard of this method before," I state. Joseph nods his head, "It is ahead of its time, and due to the constraints the pharmaceutical companies put on this school of thought, it is prevented from being recognized as an acceptable form of therapy. The lobbyists know just how much money their companies, and consequently they, stand to lose if most of those with mental imbalances stop ingesting their lab creations." Nodding my head in agreement, "I believe that."

He pulls his leg onto his knee, "Okay. I'm going to ask you questions only today. My first question is: When was the most recent moment where you felt you had been betrayed by someone you trusted? Take plenty of time to think about it." Huh. Betrayed by someone I trusted - recently. "Recently, I was employed by the father of one of my husband's now former friends, and this friend used me and lied to me." "Good, Eve, what happened in that moment to make you feel used and lied to?" God, which time? I felt used and lied to by him several times, it just took me a while to connect the dots. "There were more than a few of those moments, but I guess the most intense was when his father fired me for asking about a commission I earned." "Okay," Joseph said, "So you put trust in your husband's friend for a job that ultimately his father fired you from because you asked about compensation? Is that correct?" "Yes," I stammer, "It sounds so silly now that I say that." He sits up a little more and puts his hands on his knees, "Why do you think your feelings from that moment are silly?" He seems genuinely interested. Why do you think it's silly sounding? "I....I was so upset, but it was only a job. I should have not been foolish enough to know losing a job was not the end of the world, but at that time it felt like it was. It's not like this former friend sentenced me to my death, he just screwed me and my husband over a few times financially. I've had worse." I shrug and look to the floor. "You believe you should have been able to predict the outcome of the situation?" he responds. Exhaling, I say, "No, I know that would be impossible." "Then, Eve, why are you being so hard on yourself for an outcome you could not have foreseen?" "I believe the outcome could have been avoided, had I seen the red flags." Yes. I do believe that. Joseph says, "Why are you placing all the responsibility of that situation on yourself? You were not the only individual involved. That hardly seems fair - to you." I let out another sigh, "If I don't look out for myself, who will?"

After a brief pause, Joseph speaks up, "Do you feel that way all the time? That you are left to your own defenses?" His eyebrows are raised in curiosity. Here we go..."Yes. I have to fend for myself. I essentially have for as long as I can remember." "Mmhm. Without appearing too bold, I would like to run my theory by you: You feel the need to take one-hundred percent responsibility for each situation you find yourself in, regardless of whether or not you actually could have changed the outcome of those situations, because you have felt responsible for your own well-being for as long as your memory allows you to recall...Does this sound familiar?" Huh. I guess I never thought about it that way before. He makes it sound so simple - like an obvious cause and effect, not like some sort of warped perception. Fantastic! "I would say that sounds overly simplified, but maybe it is just that. Maybe all the anxiety boils down to a very easily identifiable root..." I start stammering again, "But yeah, I feel that in no way what you just said is inaccurate, therefore, I assume it to be correct....er, familiar, as you put it." Joseph slowly exhales as he continues, "This first session has gone well. You answered my questions with ease, which shows your level of self-awareness, which by the way is very high and not typical for the clientele I usually work with, however, we both agree that the 'root', as you put it, is simple when put into words, but when we go further into the action of reprogramming that aspect of you, it will be more of a challenge. Now, one can see a challenge as burdensome, but based on the little time I have interacted with you, I do believe this challenge will be more of an adventure for you. You do seem to be a curious individual..." He used curious to describe me. I used it to describe him. Interesting. "Yes," I chuckle, "I have a very curious nature about me and I find it to be one of my strengths." Joseph replies, "Then this should be just what you need. Let's plan on two sessions a week. You are swift to analyze and adjust, and therefore, I want this to be a continuous wave of heightened awareness for you at this time -that way your curiosity stays piqued and you perceive this transition as an adventure, as opposed to a chore. How about I see you two evenings from now?" Wow. He's practically a salesman. He makes this sound like a trip of a lifetime! Ha! "Um, two days from now, Thursday?" Joseph nods his head in agreement. "Sure." Joseph stands up and extends his hand, "It was a pleasure meeting with you today, and hopefully the real excitement can begin next session." I shake his hand. Wouldn't it be rude of him not to say it was a pleasure? Formalities...oy. "And no, Eve, I'm not just saying that. It is genuinely nice to work with someone who is so open in her mindset. Sometimes, what I do can be likened to 'pulling teeth'." He chuckles and leads me through to the first room, and then to the door.