this is why i don’t open that particular pandora’s box.

One time, I read this brilliant short story about a beautiful tightrope walker,

a sad and hopeful clown, and a seemingly confident lion tamer.

It became one of my favorites from the very first sentence.

I often think about the story, even if I can't remember the exact words.

You know, I must say,

I find this situation laughably ironic; the better people feel,

the less they book sessions,

the better and crappier I feel.

Better because it is one less burden to carry on my shoulders and my psyche.

Crappier because of the other burdens that appear from a lack of cash.

You see, you may not know this, so I will fill in the blanks:

my "career" thrives and feeds on futile attempts to assuage human misery.

Quite literally, the more miserable a person is and the more tears they have,

the more they want to talk to us.

I've heard more prayers, wishes, sins,

confessions, than mosts priests will hear inside their cold church walls.

I was told once that during more difficult sessions, my voice sounds

like that of a person who wants to calm a frightened horse;

soothing, quiet, bringing comfort where I can. But little do they know

my hands shake nonstop with frustration

as I take on these people's prayers, wishes, sins,

and endlessly repetitive confessions as my own.

And every time I crack a joke to make them laugh, it is because I spend

an hour every day running as fast as I can until my lungs hurt just so I

don't think about their voices on a loop by the time the night falls.

You see, so and so, your feelings are valid. Your (or their) behavior is not.

Yes, you have the right to feel like you (sure as Hell) deserve more.

No, I do not believe that any kind of (Christian) God

made this happen in order to test your faith.

You've got nothing to prove by not letting go.

But they don't believe it. For many obvious reasons, they rarely do.

You see, they smile, they nod, they say they've understood, they've learned,

they're now changed men and women, they now know exactly how not to be fooled

by the shitloads of social and emotional predators they "formerly" chose to indulge.

And the next time they book a session with me,

it is nine times out of ten because they have fallen back

into the same patterns we struggled to untangle the time before that.

And the time before that--

well, no,

it was more or less the same thing.

And I end it thinking to myself,

"I don't care. I really do could not care less by this point."

But I don't believe it. For obvious reasons, I do not.

You see, I smile. I nod. I say I've understood, I've learned,

and I'm now a changed me, and now I know exactly how to cope,

how to not over-invest in or care about these bleeding hearts more than I should.

And the next time they book a session with me,

nine times out of ten I will repeat myself. I will listen.

(If appropriate) I'll try to make them laugh.

I will give them much-needed tough love.

And after all that, I will stare at the screen,

wishing I could stand up, walk through that door,

and travel for miles on end carrying just the one story in my head

about the beautiful and maddening tightrope walker,

the well-intended but pathetic clown,

and the overcompensating

lion tamer.