Thinking
I remember sitting down for a session.
There was a single chair for the psychologist and a small sofa for patients. There were two bland pillows on the sofa, presumably so each member in couple’s therapy could hold a pillow. (Given the situation, it would be inappropriate to call the item a “loveseat”.)
Even the tissue box was placed close, but not too close: Within an arm’s reach but not so close as to be presumptuous.
Soft music played in the background. There was a faint scent, but nothing too strong. I could never quite place it, maybe lavender? In the corner of the room, a small fountain poured over for the full 45-minute session.
The entire purpose of this sterile room, in a nondescript North County building, was to make the patient feel comfortable. For me — for my brain — everything was too convenient.
The room was ineffectual. The wall color was a muddy blue-green, and the power cable for the water fountain not well hidden. Every consumable item was from a generic brand. A tremendous amount of effort had been spent to rid the room of any personal mementos, or, indeed, anything personal at all.
I remember sitting down for a session.
The psychologist opened with an inoffensive line of questioning. I spoke openly. He then leaned forward and calmly added: “You are very good at directing the conversation where you want it to go.”
“Is that normal?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “You are receptive to what I am saying. But, at the same time, I am aware that you are thinking of multiple possible responses. Of these options, you pick the response that leads the conversation where you want.”
Was it that obvious? I had taken pride in my ability to be understanding, considerate, and empathetic. Could someone after two sessions really see through this façade?
I had to rethink my entire approach.
We have a tendency to overthink and overanalyze situations. While the behavior is common, the action manifests differently in each of us.
Some of us turn to conversations, to going out, to traveling, to shopping, to changing the things around us instead of working on ourselves.
Others do not know what we turn to — but we still have vices.
And others still, like me, turn to ego. We are not as different as we think we are. But if we lead with ego, then we will never get to see our similarities.
I have been slowly unlearning how to feed into my own ego.
And yes, I even had an ego when talking to therapists.
