Ataraxia

INTRODUCTION

“Ataraxia? And what the fuck is that”.

I can tell by my psychologist, Jaiyana Crossley AKA the judge of all thee labeled mentally misfit BKA my recurring monthly expense. Dr. J’s reaction that my vulgar vernacular struck her moral values. It amazes me how people act as if with all the crime, obscenities, and sexual advertising that the word “fuck” hasn’t lost its shock factor and is still considered offensive. Oh wow, she is still talking. Once again I retreated to the unsafe confines of my “louder than reality thoughts”. I hate when I do that.

“....and that’s the long definition. Basically, you have an ongoing freedom from distress and worry.”

I’m sure I have a skeptical look on my face. I lean back and say,”Okay. So how is that a diagnosis to the problem? How is that a problem period?”

Is she kidding me? I love that about myself. I mean, what better way to be. Why does this keep arising in my life as an issue? It’s more like a way to live. Why people hate that I don’t stress? What kinda of cynical, self-absorbed fuck faced son of a bitch would want someone to worry?

Damn… I’m doing it again. Ha, she looks like she’s saying a lot of shit. Look at those lips go. I’ll do the slow nod to pretend I’m following her every word. If only she could hear the laughter in my head. Uh oh, hand gestures. She is really getting deep. Better chime in.

“So, it isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but when it comes to people that lack understanding of your mindset, you will always create difficulties in communication and produce conflict. You do not understand anyone’s pain because to you, everyone will suffer pain. No one is exempt. You are not compassionate for those that succumb to their emotions because it is a weakness. You will unintentionally hurt others simply because you are not empathetic to their emotions.”

Well, goddamn. I paid countless hours for over 3 years to hear that!?! I should walk the fuck out now. I mean what she said isn’t a flaw of mine; it’s theirs. People overreact and play victim to anything they feel. It’s astonishing. What further doesn’t make sense is 99.9999999% of the time, they caused the infliction on themselves. For the life of me, I could never understand why people complain about life’s inevitable woes and feel appalled when the inevitable happens. If I learned anything through countless relationships from family to friends to lovers to foes, even my ex-husband (which would be a blend of all the above), they will all hurt you and you will hurt them too. It just becomes a matter of when and how. But regardless of the feeling, it won’t be the thing that kills you. Believe it or not, it will be you. The position you volunteered to put yourself in and your tolerance for the pain you will endure with that choice. People forget the pain will always go away. No matter if it’s short and breathtaking or chronic and long-term.

But fuck all that. Point is, I should really leave. She probably cries herself to sleep with some Danielle Steele novel every night or with some overweight cat. Or maybe she drowns herself in work or could be an undercover freak that has a secret fetish of masturbating over her notes and files of her sickest patients. Bingo! That’s the one.

“Lola,” she said leaning in. She had an obvious look of disappointment on her face. It was almost as if she knew I checked out the conversation, yet again. It could be the weird smirk on my face as I’m trying not to slip out a chuckle.

“You came 3 years ago because of your dreams. You said they didn’t seem like dreams anymore especially because you are seeing more and more of those images in your waking life. Things, people, places that you have never seen until coming to Atlanta. I want to try hypnosis.”

“Annnnd…. I’m out. You are paid to be a psychologist not a magician. Your time is officially up.”

“Fine. Keep writing your dreams and your journal entries. And I’ll see you next week.”

I almost evacuated the idea of leaving at the mentioning of the dreams. Ever since I moved to Atlanta, I feel this strange yet familiar energy. Things, places, and even moments and situations are jumping from my dreams to my reality. I was always taught that dreams are our connections to other realms of our world and also our consciousness. The universe trying to send messages and connect with us for the sole reason of revealing our path and purpose. Dreams relay messages of warnings, signs of direction, and of course, things that have come or are coming. But now, I’m beginning to believe these dreams seem less like dreams and more so like memories. Moving here 3 years ago just seemed so coincidental but recently, it’s starting to feel more like Fate.