Therapy the Meg

Friday the thirteenth falls on a Friday this month!  And happy semi-anniversary to a special friend.

Long long post.  It should be two.  I hope it's worthy of your time.

I started my "Meg" session by pointing out that I know two factual things: Surprise (like Meg showing up for an appointment) is a bad idea.  Also, surprise is fun.  And I opted for fun.

I asked her about my entrance, and what she thought.  I have mentioned before that, if I could have a "superpower" it would be to read the minds of people when they first see me.  I can't generally get an honest response, and I'd love to know what people think of Meg.  Ugh?  Wow?  Guy?  *yawn*?

I told this to the therapist.  She said she thought I was another doctor's patient until I spoke to her.  Then she recognised me from my photos.  This, of course, is foreign behaviour to me.  I'd never be able to identify someone from a picture I'd seen three weeks ago!

I talked about something that does trouble me a bit.  I have thought about how I see myself in five and ten years.  I believe most people would see a progression: moving up the ladder in five, running the department in ten; or downsizing in five and retiring and travelling in ten... something like that.

My career is stable.  I expect to be working in ten years, doing what I'm doing now for some project or another.  My home is a black hole: in five years, I'll be an empty nester, but my marriage is a house with a shaky foundation and I don't know if it's going to get shored up or fall down.  It is, to me, an unknown.

But Meg....  I hope to be doing more things, have more experiences ~ greet the five year mark with more memories and more ideas as to what I want to do.  Maybe I'll even find a regular Meg activity that I enjoy that I'll do weekly or monthly.

In ten years though....  Meg will be 68.  I don't think Meg will be around in ten years.  Although I think Meg looks somewhat younger than I do (and the therapist agreed but didn't attempt to put a number on it), I don't see myself as an elderly woman.  If I didn't enjoy seeing Meg in the mirror, I wouldn't do the dressing.  I think.  But I do, and I don't think I want to see an old woman looking back at me.

Maybe ten years is an underestimate.  I hope so.  Or I may be wrong.  I've noticed as I grow older, older women are more attractive to me.  I do appreciate younger women as I did before, and I can easily imagine myself with someone, say, 21 years younger than me (yes, I border on the delusional).  But I see more women well over 40 who I think look GREAT, especially those who dress GREAT.  I admit I notice clothes before the wearer.

So maybe a 68 year old Meg will look 50 or so and I'll keep going.  The 5/10 years is just a "look in the future" after all.  It's no more an exact number than "forty" was in biblical stories (mostly it meant "a lot").

I know women live with growing older and losing their looks daily.  But it's a gradual thing, and that's easier to understand and live with.  I miss my hair, but it would have been worse if I woke up one morning with a bald pate.  Gradual was better.

Meg is not continuous.  Meg is a series of snapshots.  Some of the images are months apart.  I find it a bit scary.

This is all a detailed and roundabout way of saying, it means there's less of a Meg influence in my life now than I might think.  I need to work on this.

I had mentioned to M earlier that a possible future is one without Meg.  She brought this back up and said she can't imagine me being without something that's so big a part of my life.  She also said she couldn't think of a comparable activity that other people get involved in.  I agreed.  I had done the same exercise.

My wife believes this is not a big part of my life.  I have been doing stream-of-consciousness writing and one prompt Thalia offered me was based on something my wife said ~ that I can't love someone else if I don't love myself.  My question to myself was, how can I love myself when I can't even BE myself?  For the record, I need to write more on that one.

I also mentioned that my wife thinks I'm a narcissist, because I mentioned in one of our first couples' sessions that dressing has a "narcissistic component."  I told M that my ego and self-esteem could fit in a medicine dropper.  M said she maybe has a different definition of narcissism ~ someone who only talks about themselves.  I said "well, look at us.  All we ever talk about is me!"  She said "And your wife!" and I said "only how it effects me."

A good point: I said when dressed I look in mirrors a LOT ~ she said "so do women."  I also pointed out that I know exactly one t-gurl who does not have copious photos of herself.  Some who consider themselves non-passing take pictures from the neck down.

I was reminded of an old Gary Shandling bit where he said his new girlfriend was too self-centered.  "Everything is about her.  I took her to dinner and she got too close to the candle on the table and her hair caught fire.  She was all like 'I'M on fire!  Put ME out!'"

Meg in therapy

At the end of the session I reminded M about the "narcissistic component" and asked if she'd take my picture.  She did.  It accompanies this post.  Clicking will enlarge it.

I wanted a photo in the office manager's chair ~ Meg at her new job. :)  But she said there would be people in the office so I didn't ask.  It would look weird.  Even I could see that.

As I left, the people in the office looked, but had no comment.  Since I planned to go out to dinner, I grabbed the ladies' room key and used the facilities before I left.  This was a one-toilet room, no problems.

I saw no-one else as I walked to my car.  I found the local Giant and parked a decent walk away.  I try to leave closer spots for people who need them.  Or are just narcissistic. :)  I then noticed that the restaurant I was looking for was way at the far end of the shopping centre.  So I started walking through the lot, past people who looked at me (I smiled back at the women) or who were lost in their own world.  I walked past a Dress Barn but it was now 7 and I was more interested in eating than shopping.  And I really truly am trying to downsize.  I keep telling myself that.

The restaurant was closed.  I walked back, past that Dress Barn which insisted I need a new dress.  I stood firm and went to my car to get a reuseable grocery bag.  As I walked up the parking lot aisle a football-player-looking man walked towards me.  I had a moment of worry, then looked away, as I usually do with men anyway.  He walked past and I got my bag.

I saw the man in the grocery store.  I HAVE to stop worrying.

There was nothing unusual in the grocery store.  I didn't interact with anyone until the checkout.  I chatted with the cashier who I think almost said sir.  What I heard was "How are you this evening, {pause} ma'am?"  I kept up some chit-chat and she asked if I needed help with my (one!) bag.  I smiled and said "I'm not that old yet" and she laughed.

Back home, as I said, I didn't change until after 11.  And Thursday I slept right through the alarm.  I didn't even hear it.  I was having pleasant dreams and I guess they were loud and drowned out the alarm.

Last night I covered my son and picked up another pair of open-toed shoes.  The wedges were a tad uncomfortable after a couple of hours.  And I have to mark these earrings.  The right one pinched my ear quite a bit.  The pain of a tight clip-on earring is, in my opinion, unique.

I may go out tonight.

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