Waking up this morning fearful of the day ahead, I attempted to dress more socially conservative for my appointment. Removing the septum ring out of my nose, and pulling a light grey fisherman jumper over my head, I headed out to my first appointment with the therapist who would be performing an analysis on my mind. When looking at the situation logically, there was no possible need for me to get dressed up for this occasion, I just felt the need to display myself in a more….sane manner.

I found myself pacing past the clinic over 12 times before actually setting foot inside. I was terrified. I was terrified of what would be said, and what would happen. I was afraid to be judged, and I was afraid of opening up to a complete stranger.
Picking up my courage (after a pep talk from Nat), I took a seat in the waiting room amongst the other patients, and I began to fill out my form. As I sat there answering the traditional questions, I had the strange feeling that I was being stared at. Maybe it was the McQueen scarf wrapped tightly around my head as a bandanna, or the fact that I was shaking nervously, but I grew more and more anxious as the minute hand of my watch ticked away.

Never being in this office before, I began to examine my surroundings. The first thing I took in were the walls. What is it with health care clinics and yellow walls? I hear the yellow is supposed to be soothing, but how can something so “soothing” look positively atrocious. Why not add a little modern zest to the office with a nice light grey, or a soft white…either way, the yellow seemed to increase my ever growing anxiety.
Being the first time I have met this therapist, I honestly did not know what to expect. Playing upon stereotypes, I pictured a 70 something year old man, balding, and in a brown tweed suit. Apparently not all stereotypes are correct, for my therapist was a young man with a friendly face.

Stepping into the office, I was awaiting the continuous slue of questions to be thrown my way. Instead I was left to do most of the talking, and I was able to tell my story from the beginning to end. For the first time in a while, I was fully comfortable discussing my full story with someone other than close friends (and the blog world of course).

An hour later, as the appointment came to an end, I left feeling something I haven’t in a while: Contentment.

I put myself into such a fuss worrying about what would happen in this appointment, and what would come out of it that I forgot to just live and let it happen. I think that “Letting it Happen” is a key factor that we all must achieve within our busy lives.
We are so caught up in over analyzing and criticizing everything we do that we are stuck in this web of turmoil, were we are so distraught over fallen dreams or the mistakes of our past. Speaking to him about everything that has occurred within the last few months, I felt a new sense of relief.

Being the first time in a while where I spoke of Him and the soap opera-esque occurrences of my blogging, I began to feel relieved to let the past fall off of me, and just.. happen. When it comes down to it I cannot change what happened with Him and I nor can I delete any memories, but why would I do that? We use our memories as tools to grow, and from the experiences we encounter we add on a new layer to our sense of self.

In order to survive in this world, we must learn to do as the french do, and say: Cest La Vie.