Bagged

It’s in the bag

When thinking over my therapeutic relationship with Mrs. Howell, I realized she made feel like I was favorite client; She’d helped me focus on the providence, that a job lost, was an opportunity gained. I was seeking life-coaching for an unscheduled career change. It wasn’t long before I realized every client probably felt the way I did about Mrs. Howell. By their 4th counseling session with her. Their confidence was unseated just as sure as mine was, by the mystery package session. A session where introduction to the brown paper wrapped box and bag were made. She literally said, Cassie Dearborn, meet Mystery Gift. ‘Huh’ was all I said, out loud. My inside voice: "Only way I’m interacting with brown bags and boxes like we are besties. is if I I’m hyperventilating and if that bag doesn’t work, I’ll be in tight with the box, but to be carrying on a conversation with either? Nah.

Let’s be clear the brown paper bag, is the box wrapper; When Mrs. Howell Introduces you to this box wrapped with a paper bag, you assume she is giving you a gift.... You don’t get to open it; at least I didn’t get to open mine. She unwraps the box very carefully and you learn it’s wrapping is a brown grocery bag. I remember asking her. “What’s in the box?” she says, nonchalantly, “nothing.” She further adds, “What you want, is in the bag.” then she places it on her desk. I foolishly thought this was just ‘one and done’ tools of the trade

I couldn’t have been more wrong. Mrs. Howell presented this basic old fashion grocery bag, in many sessions as hope. opportunity. However, some saw this bag as fear, a stumbling block, a desire or a loss. Either way, on the day this therapist presents, that brown bag to a person, it is a classic moment. What I mean by that, is the day that bag is presented to a client their life could never go back to the way it was! Or they were, before.

Mrs. Howell knew that most of her clients knew about the paper bag before they even were accepted, as new patients. They were lured there. I believe a good portion of one’s business is derived. From word of mouth, so, Mrs. Howell intuited that there are some people who were there for the ‘fishes and loaves’, lured to her office by tales of the brown paper bag. Mind you, those tales are not always true or good, balanced on the nose end of Pinocchio. As human nature would have it, most people believe that it’ll be different for them. So, they come, and they meet Mrs. Howell expectantly. I was one of those people. And boy was it waaaaaay different…

Everybody gets the brown wrapped box/paper bag one of their sessions, not as random it feels, they show up one session and Mrs. Howell’s desk is clear of papers, and file folders. There are no knickknacks on the desk her lamp is no longer there. There is nothing on her desk but a brown paper bag. From then on, she always starts this session in the same way. It doesn’t matter if your, in the client chair. on the couch, the mantra about the bag is the same, she simply says, “It’s in the bag?” And then she says nothing else.

Most People are uncomfortable with silence, and so they begin to fill up that quiet with conversation Once that gift is presented and the silence follows clients hurl questions at Mrs. Howell, rapid fire. “What’s in the bag?” to which Mrs. Howell answers, “It’s in the bag”. A parlay of back-and-forth ensues “Well what is it?” Howell simply restates, “It’s in the bag”. This Q & A dance continues in tandem with the same response, for a few more sessions. Mrs. Howell’s has very predictable ‘moves’, always the same lyrics in accompaniment… “It’s in the bag.”

Every client has a last session. Ideally, The last session the client opens the bag and gets the content with in. when I was in previous sessions. I remembered how I failed to see how much was on me, to just open the bag. I was seeking permission, a sort of granting of “Can I touch the bag,” I realized on today I never repositioned myself where to move closer to the bag. I did nothing but talk and try to cajole this Clinician to just tell me! I remembered that ole saying that ‘Talk is cheap’ Though these sessions cost a pretty penny. I have had coaching and counseling from other providers, The outcomes of those, cheap to cheesy. I left feeling unfulfilled frustrated questioning and empty-handed,

Today, I couldn’t fix my lips to say any of the aforementioned. You see, when in session with Mrs. Howell, I got really close to the bag. Actually, way scary close. This time I didn’t take a seat in any of the office offerings. I stood directly at the desk staring down at that brown bag. She started that bag routine yaddy yaddy ya, with me, for the fourth time, in as many sessions. She declared and pointed at the bag. Over exaggerating the mantra “I-t-s in the B-a-g.” it’s… I said, directly to the bag, “What’s in the bag?” Mrs. Howell answered her usual, as if I was talking to her. She was now using the broken record technique. You guessed it using the same phrase, you know the one,” It’s in…

I said, “Can you excuse me, I need to go to the restroom?” I and I got up and went to the restroom, I sat on the commode pants were still up and I began to think on things. She’s not a good counselor not even good to look at so something keeps people talking about her and revering her. Her office digs were exquisite, Did I mention she wasn’t that good. What I do know, is two of my friends are doing waaaay better since they went to Mrs Howell for life and career coaching; I’m talking 6 figures better! My friend Tess got a new beau out of nowhere. He is too good to be true.

…Oh my gosh! time got away from me this toilet stall. Time is eating up my 125.00 an hour time slot and I am not at six figures., yet. My plan when I go back in there is to reach in that bag and pull out what I’m sure is some type of currency, gold bar, lottery ticket, I now know the aim of theses seasons is to get in that bag. Exercise faith with action and do something that is greater than the circumstance that brought me to therapist Howell’s wily counseling services.

I walked from that restroom pregnant with determination I knew with each step towards the office door my life would irrevocably change once I touched that bag. I gingerly opened the office door, very quietly like I was turning a page ever so slowly in a book not wanting the story to end just yet basking in its happy ending…. what my eyes took in next rendered me speechless and unable to move. I couldn’t make sense of what I was witnessing.

Mrs. Howell was atop of her desk in what was a pretty provocative position she was positioned doggy style her wide round Blue with white polka-dot skirted butt was jutted out and squirming towards the doorway as she appeared to be back king away from something…,no backing out of something while her rump thighs lower legs and feet continue to wriggle in a moving out backwards motion, her upper half seem to have contorted grotesquely into miniature proportion in relation to the brown grocery bag.

I had the oddest sensation that I was now in danger; having become privy to something ‘otherworldly’ and clearly not meant to be known. I knew I had to put voice to this magic trick; before I relegated it to a fast and upcoming explanation; mental diagnosis involving delusions and hallucinations. In a rush, words tumbling over words, I yelped! “You were in that bag!” Mrs. Howell answered me, as she completed her exit from the bag. But she seemed purposeful in not yet turning around. I imagine her upper half and face were still coming together and resizing to that if the human she was portraying. She strangled out the admission, “I was.” I slid in before she began spinning lies “What are you!?” I squiggled my toes in my clogs I wanted to make sure my feet would move when my mind directed me to run, after I heard her answer. She simply said. I’m a bag lady, like a genie.

“Will you please take a seat so we can finish our session?”. As if I had something to bargain with, I pointedly said, “No, not until you tell me what the Hell is going on!” Mrs. Howell then said softly, you’re going to need to sit down for what’s next, “Do you want the good news or the bad news?” I asked her if there was a third option? She replied, “You’re not gonna wanna hear this, but yes” With resignation and in tandem with my inside voice, she said, “It’s in the bag literally”

I needed to sit down my trembling thighs signaled. I shut the office door most of the way and instead of taking the pale pink leather couch and matching lounger, I dropped down and sat crossed legged in front of the desk like I was praying to it, crisscross applesauce. I was resigned to, what next. I felt like I was in a dream as Mrs. Howell began to give me the good news. Because I was in and out of shock, I didn’t catch every word, but I ear hustled some blurbs…we are like modern-day genies, and we don’t grant wishes per say…. thru our session we learn what a client…we tell them that they need to exercise faith and… they must reach into the bag., it’s empty but the bag reads their needs and wants.

Things began to happen and appear in a client’s life., they soon stop coming…everything they needed was in the bag! I hardly perceived the shift in her tale, but I heard bad news and began to listen intently. The bag must be reset after a client reaches inside, by the bag lady “Which is me”. Mrs. Howell says, while laying her right hand onto her upper left breast patting it for emphasis. “But there is one small thing.” If ever A bag lady is caught going in or out of the bag, she loses the privilege and control of it.

I interrupted her and said, “So you can’t help me???, All this in the bag mess and I don’t get anything!” I ran across the room and swiped up the brown bag by its twines rope handles and began crumbling the bag as trash. The sharp shrill of Mrs. Howell’s “Stop!” “If that bag is destroyed the bag lady is too, she dies!” I stopped, midstream a twisting-tearing action and looked at her and whispered, “You mean I destroy this bag you die? Why not! your if no use to me!, you picked a wrong time to bag yourself and I lose out, I don’t see a problem with getting rid of you and this bag.” Mrs. Howell reminded me firmly, I interrupted her.

… “As I was saying, if the bag lady is caught going in or out of the bag, she no longer has the privilege to use the bag. That ability is transferred to the person who catches them entering or exiting the bag. Mrs. Howell then turns on her heel, leaving her own office; in a sing-song manner, with these words trailing after her, “You better find a nice box for that paper bag!

End

By Lesha Mae Powell -7/26/2021

7660 Dickonburg Rd Linesville, Pa 16424 Home

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