And you know what else…?

 And you know what else…

I told him that I was writing
this book where the main character was this dad character loosely based
on him. I didn’t intend to tell him. I never intended to tell him
because it made me feel stupid and well.. So vulnerable and like a
weird obsessive person or something… and do you know what he said? He
said, “You’re an artist, Eryssa,” (well, he used my real name ;-)) “You
handle things differently than the way other people do. You’re creative
so you deal with things in a creative way. I don’t think it’s weird at
all. I think it’s touching.”

I felt like I was five years old…
you know, like this little kid all blushing and wanting to put my hands
in my mouth and flutter my eyes and dig my toe into the rug LOL… but
I didn’t, of course… I was more tough, shrugging, like it’s just
dirt… you know.. blustering.. “uh… well, it’s just me…”

“Well,” he said, “both statements can be true. You are an artist and creative and you are you.”

And
I know he’s not lying or just saying this stuff to make me feel good
because he’s seen my writing on several occasions. Years and years ago
I brought him a couple of stories and he read them. The next week when
I came back he greeted me by saying, “You know, you REALLY can write..
I mean, I’m not just saying this. I shared your stories with (the name
of another therapist there who Hopeful1 used to see when she was a
little girl ((who has since died unfortunately))) and he thought they
were really good too!” He even compared me with Stephen King! (Someone
else once did that as well.) And there was another piece I wrote that
he told me he couldn’t even finish because it hurt too much to read. So
I know that he is familiar with my writing. This is not the first time
he has said I was an artist and creative. Once he even said almost more
to himself than me when we were talking something to the effect that
therapy was always tougher with artists because they thought a little
differently. I didn’t know whether to be flattered or scared (but I was
flattered).

Anyway, after I told him about the book, I felt so
free to really let go with it and write to my heart’s content. Prior to
that I felt almost as if I were infringing on boundaries, as if maybe I
were sort of… well, like abusing him or something weird like that.
Now I feel as if I’ve been given permission in a way… not like I’m
sneaking around doing some sort of weird worshippy thing.