Insides Out

“How have you been feeling this week?” he asks. This is the usual way we start our sessions. We have done it six times now.

What I don’t say is that my insides feel like they are outside; nerves, tendons, organs exposed and electric. I am a horror to my fellows, an alien walking among them. They sense it, I know they do.

What I do say, is “OK”.

We have been here before. The weeks have passed and I wonder why he won’t just tell me what he sees, he must see it. Then he can tell me how to fix it, someone must know how to fix this. Pull yourself together, of course. But I need to get my insides back inside me and that isn’t just a pulling together; it is an inversion.

I won’t look at him directly; if I look up at all, I look to the side of his ear. I fear his eyes will be too loud and torture my uncovered self.

He says, nodding, “Is it the same OK as last week, or any different?”.

What I don’t tell him is that this week, like every week, has been so difficult because every part of me feels conscious and from these sentient elements my mind creates a huge self, so distorted that I can barely breathe when I contemplate its enormity and ugliness.

What I do, is shrug.

“You shrugged. Tell me little about what that means” he says this, and I hear a slight squeak as he shifts position in the chair, transferring his weight minutely forward.

“This week has been a bit...”

Insides Out

I will lay a trail. I will lay it down to see if he can divine the requirement. It is a test. It must be visible on the outside, this twisted and illuminated being, emitting self loathing as light and energy.

He waits.

What I can’t say is that I am unable to think about anyone or anything except the relentless and insistent knowledge that I am wide-open; devastated and demolished by my repugnance.

“Nothing really…” I say.

“A bit….?” He noses at the clue, waiting to see if it is the right trail to follow to follow; I flick a glance from his ear to his eye.

“You looked at me; you haven’t done that before in all these weeks. It feels like I finally picked up something you wanted to tell me”.
I don’t look at him again. I nod.