Who's on First?

I think I broke my therapist.

Let me explain.

I recently started therapy again after unceremoniously quitting last summer.  I never really clicked with the original therapist I started seeing last January after my head injury.  I left each session more stressed out and anxious than I had arrived, largely, I'm sure, due to me and being closed off to therapy, and not her.  The old, "It's not you, it's me," was definitely true in that case, but long story short, it wasn't working.

I started back up this January (trend?) when I realized all of the things that I had been feeling a little cray cray about were popping up again and thought maybe I'd have better luck with someone else.  Happily, we click in a much better way -- she talks more, which in turn makes ME want to talk more, because there's nothing I like more than cutting people off and interrupting them.  And she uses complementary therapies like yoga, qi gong, and meditation, all of which I love because they give me tools for my little toolkit of "How I Can Help Fix Myself When My Mind Goes Bananas."  Perfect for someone who hates asking for help and who likes to think she knows it all.  Love.

So, after a few weeks of gently easing her into my crazy, without even planning it, I just let 'er rip:

"Is this it?  I mean, is this all there is?

And I mean, maybe this is all there is, or maybe this isn't all there is.

Maybe I deserve more, but I don't know what that is, but maybe I don't deserve more because who am I to deserve more than anyone else and maybe there isn't anything else anyway and maybe really it's not about having more or something different but accepting what you have and being happy with it.   But I don't want to just accept what I have if I really should have more, you know?

So I guess what I'm asking is, how do I tell the difference?"

Or, perhaps Whitney Houston said it best when she asked, "How Will I Know?"

It was the psychotherapy equivalent of "Who's on first?"

And, unfortunately for her, since I speak a mile a minute, I essentially only burned through 47 seconds with all of that so she couldn't even say, "That's all for today, thanks for playing."

To her extreme credit, she didn't try to answer what really are unanswerable questions but she try to help me through them with a doozy question of her own:

"Well, are you happy?  And if not, when were you last happy?"

I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with the term.  Happy?  I'm not sure what that is.  Sure, I have moments of happiness and sadness, and love and indifference, and kindness and cruelty, and peace and worry, and hope and despair, and connection and isolation.  But happy as a full-time state?  As in, all the time?  Hmmm.  Does that, like, happen for people?  I mean, I live in New York City, I'm not sure that's a characteristic I've seen native to this environment.  Maybe I saw it once when I saw ANNIE on Broadway and once at Chili's during half-priced happy hour.  Do I need to go to Iowa to see it or do they have it in the Bronx Zoo?

Oh wait, yeah, I was happy that one time -- no, wait, sorry, I just got myself confused with someone else there for a second.  I was thinking of Liz Lemon and 30 Rock.

Like Prince Charles said when he was asked if he was in love with his new fiancee Diana Spencer, "Whatever in love means."  Whatever "happy" means, sure, yes, I guess so.

Ask again later.

I've never been a fan of asking questions that don't have clear cut answers.  Too messy, what's the point?  Just keep your head down and keep moving forward.

And I'm not sure why these questions popped up today -- maybe it's that February has been the longest shortest month, maybe it's turning 40 shortly, maybe I just wanted to see someone's head explode in real life, I'm not sure.

My people, and by "people" I mean both the Irish and Long Islanders, are not a particularly, shall I say, "sunny" lot.  They are always on high alert for the black cloud.  Thar she blows again, the winds of bad luck.   You'll pay penance for any stroke of good fortune with something disproportionately nasty down the line.   And don't even think about keeping that dollar you found on the ground.  You WILL get struck by lightning.  Don't get too comfortable.   Don't get too smug; God will wipe that smile right off your face.  This won't last.  Hoard the potatoes.  Kids are starving somewhere.  People have real problems.

All of that's well and good.  By no means do I have a bad life.  And many, many, many people in this world are worse off.  But is it so wrong to want more?  And if not more, different?

The problem is, if you're used to living life waiting for the other shoe to drop, maybe the more that you need is simply to accept that the other shoe WILL drop, so you just have to enjoy all the days in between.

So, maybe the better question is, "Which comes first?  The chicken or the egg?"  Does happiness come when you realize you have everything you need as it is now?  Or does it come when you look around and say, "This isn't all there is and I am going to make a change (or ten)."

Don't look at me.  I asked you first.

Damned if I know.

But I'm beginning to think you have to find out who's on first to help figure out what's on second, especially when I don't know's on third.

All I can hope is that Hugh Jackman's at home plate.

A girl can dream, right?