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Authors: Carter Quinn
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puzzles.”
She writes something on her notebook and I cringe, waiting for the judgment. “That makes sense, actually. You’re already making order out of chaos, which is really what therapy is all about. In our case, instead of creating a physical picture out of jumbled pieces, we’re taking the fragments of your memories and fitting them into the proper ways of dealing with them. That’s good, Avery. Is there anything else? Do you like to write or draw?”
My hands clasp each other so tightly my fingers have gone to sleep. For some reason the answer has me back on the verge of tears. “I used to draw when I was little.”
“Do you think you’d like to start again?”
“No,” I whisper, the image of my torn and discarded drawings fresh again in my mind.
Dr. Moorhead leans back in her chair. “It’s very important that you have an outlet for the emotions we’re going to be sorting through in our sessions. I usually suggest that my clients keep a journal of their thoughts after each session. Many people find it helpful to work though their thoughts and feelings while writing them down. But I think visual images might be a better way to go for you. I’d like you to visit the art supply store down the street on your way home. Pick up some sketch pads and colored pencils or crayons or whatever you’d like to make pictures with. Then, after each session, I’d like for you to draw your emotions. You don’t need to try to make a pretty picture if that’s not what you’re feeling; just let the pencil and the moment guide you. This isn’t for a grade and I’m not going to judge you for any of it. I won’t even look at it if you don’t want me to; but you will need some way to let it all out. Give yourself a time limit if you like, say, thirty minutes. When your time is up, you can either finish what you’ve started or leave off right there. You’ll feel a lot better about our time together and you’ll get to rediscover something you once loved to do.”
I nod imperceptibly, remembering how I’d vandalized the orphan trains book. I wouldn’t have imagined ever drawing again, but obviously my subconscious was way ahead of the good therapist. I suppose it won’t hurt anything to try at least.
Somehow I make it through the session with Dr. Moorhead. Out of stubbornness, I refuse to call her Kendall. If I’m going to be coerced into therapy, I’m going to hang on to a few of my own thoughts. Perhaps because of the traumatic beginning or because that caused a truncated session, I think she goes easy on me. There are no major dark secret questions and she doesn’t ask about Joey. I wonder if Sam warned her that would be a bad idea. Whatever the case, I walk out of the session on my own power without another round of tears. Sam beams such a huge smile my way that I can’t help but feel like I’ve accomplished something.
***
Inside my closet, I stare at the blank sketch pad with an equally blank brain. What am I supposed to do now? Draw something. Draw what? When I was little, I drew the usual kid stuff, houses and sunshine and rainbows, but I felt those things. I don’t feel anything now. So maybe that’s the key. How does one draw blankness? How does one draw his emotional state when he hasn’t the foggiest clue what that is? I blink away tears of frustration and grab the first colored pencil I find.
Of course, it’s the black one. Okay , I tell myself, you can deal with that. It’s just a doggone drawing. It’s not rocket science . But it seems as complicated and as alien as rocket science. I haven’t held a colored pencil since I was six years old; it doesn’t even feel right in my hand.
Hesitantly, I put it to the paper and draw a line across the top of the page. I stare at the line, connect a few more to it and I have a box. I start to shade in the box and completely lose myself in the process. Yes , I think, this feels right. This feels like me . Without letting myself think, I simply
She writes something on her notebook and I cringe, waiting for the judgment. “That makes sense, actually. You’re already making order out of chaos, which is really what therapy is all about. In our case, instead of creating a physical picture out of jumbled pieces, we’re taking the fragments of your memories and fitting them into the proper ways of dealing with them. That’s good, Avery. Is there anything else? Do you like to write or draw?”
My hands clasp each other so tightly my fingers have gone to sleep. For some reason the answer has me back on the verge of tears. “I used to draw when I was little.”
“Do you think you’d like to start again?”
“No,” I whisper, the image of my torn and discarded drawings fresh again in my mind.
Dr. Moorhead leans back in her chair. “It’s very important that you have an outlet for the emotions we’re going to be sorting through in our sessions. I usually suggest that my clients keep a journal of their thoughts after each session. Many people find it helpful to work though their thoughts and feelings while writing them down. But I think visual images might be a better way to go for you. I’d like you to visit the art supply store down the street on your way home. Pick up some sketch pads and colored pencils or crayons or whatever you’d like to make pictures with. Then, after each session, I’d like for you to draw your emotions. You don’t need to try to make a pretty picture if that’s not what you’re feeling; just let the pencil and the moment guide you. This isn’t for a grade and I’m not going to judge you for any of it. I won’t even look at it if you don’t want me to; but you will need some way to let it all out. Give yourself a time limit if you like, say, thirty minutes. When your time is up, you can either finish what you’ve started or leave off right there. You’ll feel a lot better about our time together and you’ll get to rediscover something you once loved to do.”
I nod imperceptibly, remembering how I’d vandalized the orphan trains book. I wouldn’t have imagined ever drawing again, but obviously my subconscious was way ahead of the good therapist. I suppose it won’t hurt anything to try at least.
Somehow I make it through the session with Dr. Moorhead. Out of stubbornness, I refuse to call her Kendall. If I’m going to be coerced into therapy, I’m going to hang on to a few of my own thoughts. Perhaps because of the traumatic beginning or because that caused a truncated session, I think she goes easy on me. There are no major dark secret questions and she doesn’t ask about Joey. I wonder if Sam warned her that would be a bad idea. Whatever the case, I walk out of the session on my own power without another round of tears. Sam beams such a huge smile my way that I can’t help but feel like I’ve accomplished something.
***
Inside my closet, I stare at the blank sketch pad with an equally blank brain. What am I supposed to do now? Draw something. Draw what? When I was little, I drew the usual kid stuff, houses and sunshine and rainbows, but I felt those things. I don’t feel anything now. So maybe that’s the key. How does one draw blankness? How does one draw his emotional state when he hasn’t the foggiest clue what that is? I blink away tears of frustration and grab the first colored pencil I find.
Of course, it’s the black one. Okay , I tell myself, you can deal with that. It’s just a doggone drawing. It’s not rocket science . But it seems as complicated and as alien as rocket science. I haven’t held a colored pencil since I was six years old; it doesn’t even feel right in my hand.
Hesitantly, I put it to the paper and draw a line across the top of the page. I stare at the line, connect a few more to it and I have a box. I start to shade in the box and completely lose myself in the process. Yes , I think, this feels right. This feels like me . Without letting myself think, I simply
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