The last several books I read were memoirs written by people who made the same journey on foot I hope to make one day and also write about. So far, I haven't liked any of them for long. Not the books, I mean the people. I imagine walking along beside them but not too far.
I'd certainly end up walking alone out there - more or less by choice - but not because I did not want for a companion.
Remembering a therapeutic conversation I overheard yesterday. The person in the client role gave a summary of her week. She emphasized an episode during which she snapped at a friend on the telephone and hung up on him abruptly. A few minutes later she realized this was a patterned response of hers, and she decided she didn't want to be stuck in that pattern anymore. She called her friend back and apologized, not only for this episode, but for every time that she'd behaved this way toward him in the past.
The person in the therapist role said he wanted to issue her a challenge for homework. The assignment was to write down, in detail, exactly what she'd like her life to look like. I rolled my eyes internally.
That assignment came to mind several times today. Each time it came up, I gave it a few seconds of thought before escaping into some other distraction. Each time I drew a blank.
No comments:
Post a Comment