…therapy talk. And some other stuff too.

My therapist did not bring his little bichon frise Charlie with him this time, and I must say, I was a little disappointed. That dog is really cute and I am the kind of person who sees a dog and goes “DOGGY!” in the inside, and I will be like that till the day I die, so I missed the lil guy.

It did make it way easier to concentrate this time, though.

It did make me think about my relationship with animals. There was a thing going around Facebook last year about being the kind of person who, in the middle of a crowded party, will be the one making friends with the cat.

That is SO me. I love animals and I have a lot of trouble (mostly internal) getting on with people, so I am totally the kind of person who makes friends with animals when there’s lots of people around.

Animals are great. No complicated social variables or context-rich situations I just don’t get. They like to be petted. I like petting them. It’s the soul of uncomplicated mutuality.

And I am lucky because I am the sort of person to whom children and animals instinctively flock. I know it’s a common cliche to say “Well everyone likes to think they are the kind of person to whom children and animals instinctively flock….” thus implying that the person towards whom this is said is not, but I really am.

I am the youngest of four, so I have zero child-rearing experiences. Yet time and time again, when I have been around little kids, they stick to me like white on rice. All I do is treat them with kindness and respect, and apparently, that makes me a kid magnet. There were kids on my paper route when I was a teen who only knew me from when I showed up once a week to collect payment for the paper. Nevertheless, they would be super happy to see me, and all I had done to earn it was talk to them for a few minutes while their parents were looking for change.

I didn’t ask for this power. It’s a gift, and a curse.

As for animals, I have a long history of petting dogs everyone else thinks are mean, befriending cats people think are too shy to make friends with people, and other feats of near Snow White level of animal affinity.

I guess there is just something about me. Kids and animals can sense that I am a gentle, nonthreatening, friendly soul and want nothing more than to befriend them, and they respond to that.

Kind of makes me feel good about life, really. That simple creatures can recognize that.

And maybe with the kids, they can sense my deep maternal nature. That would be nice too. I still don’t know exactly how a maternal male makes his way through life expressing that unusual duality, but it will come to me.

Anyhow, so I get along great with critters. Growing up with all those cats probably helped. As did being a lonely child who has trouble interfacing with people, leaving lots of social potential left over for me to get very good with animals, cats especially. I practically speak cat.

We also talked about my recent spate of self-improvement. All that butching up inside. I want nothing more now than to gather strength and power and self-respect into myself like breathing in oxygen.

I am in touch with my primal id, and damn it feels good. I am going to feed it and love it and train it till it grows to dinosaur size and I can ride it out of my sad little life and on to bigger, brighter, more wonderful things.

I don’t mean to insult the people currently in my life, like my friends. I love my friends so much! But I have my eyes on distant horizons these days, and some day, the wind at my back will be strong enough to take me there.

Um, closer to there. In the direction of there. You can’t actually reach the horizon. Obviously. Ahem.

Man, the words are coming hard today. My brain is totally on vacation and does not want to think wordful thoughts.

What else… oh, I told my therapist about the need to imagine versions of myself before I can become it. I tried to give him a broad and digestible version of it, but he still didn’t understand it. I guess it is pretty personal to me and hard to explain to someone who is not me.

But I have to be able to imagine a version of myself, me but with different variables, before I can move in that direction. It’s like I imagine a mold then slowly ooze out of one mold and into the newer, better one.

And this new mold has to grow organically. I can’t force it and it can’t be something I conceive of consciously. It just emerges from the subconscious, which has been refining it for a long time, far away from the prying eyes of the conscious.

I know I have it right when it feels real. When I can imagine myself in that role and it feels right. When I can totally imagine myself becoming that version of myself and it being awesome.

It sucks to realize that I am so goddamned unique that even my therapist doesn’t really “get” me. Just for once I would like someone to get where I am coming from instead of being forever trying to communicate myself to people in a way they will understand and accept.

But no, it seems I am destined to walk the lonely path of rugged individualism whether I want to or not. (I don’t. ) I sometimes wish I could be a stoic loner who prides themselves on self-sufficiency and takes the tough road on purpose.

But I’m Snow White. And it just doesn’t work that way for me.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.