The October Train

Here's a look into my therapist's office.

I'm in a pretty angry place again.  It's hard to be angry with someone who's not alive.  It's a mess of emotions, let me tell you.

Jana says gently, "Tell me what you're mad about."

I tick things off with my fingers, listing my grievances.  That's when I realize my hands had been clenched so tightly that my fingernails have left half-moons in my palms.

"Have you written about it?"

I flinch.  "No."

"Well, I'm going to need you to.  We've got to get into this."

"I don't want to."

"I know.  But look at you.  This mess has to come out.  So give yourself time to write about it, and then give yourself time to recover from writing about it."

"Well, that's just it.  Let me tell you about my next two weeks."  Conferences, book deadlines, travel, meetings with publishers, endorsements, parent teacher conferences, football games, gymnastics... I'm a whirlwind, to my own detriment.

"Ah, it's October.  That's right.  Tricia in October.  We're about to hit the ground running.  She won't be 'falling into' anything.  She's running, headlong, as fast as she can.  Okay, Tricia, do tell."

I laughed out loud.  I always forget my own patterns. But of course this is happening.  Every year in October, I have this sprint of action and behavior and decisions, just before 'the holidays' hit in November.  It's like I think if I can get a running start, I'll stand a better chance.

Jana continued.  "Tricia, I could ask you to slow down, but I think you'd just blow right past and think, 'Did someone say something?  What was that sound?  Ah, well, it's a dot on the horizon now.  I'll catch her on my next lap.'  So I won't try to slow you down.  I'll just get on board.  Tell me where we're going in the next two weeks."

This is the October Train.  Apparently the best advice is to get on, or get out of the way.  For better or for worse, this girl is on the move.