When it comes to Psychotherapy, one of the most important elements is the establishment of a relationship between the therapist and their client. I'm neither a friend nor an enemy, but someone who you feel comfortable in confiding in, assured that there will be no shame, judgement or derision. Without it, I can't help anyone, with it, I can build bridges and start the arduous task of self-help that my work entails. People often forget that, I'm not here to fix you but help you fix yourself.
Keeping this in mind, I really wish Lily Valley would actually start the "self" part of self-help. As I reclined in my office, I ruminated on our fifteenth session. She wasn't particularly bullish, merely stubborn. She'd internalised her anxiety to the point where it was 'normal' for her. That is, not to simply exist and cope with it like many do, but to willingly let it direct her every move and reaction.
"Note to self," I mumble, talking into my beat up old tape recorder, "Discuss control issues re: Lilly Valley. Maybe she requires a different approach, cross-reference with compulsions and irrational phobias?" I pop the cassette out and quickly place it in my briefcase for later, the small tape standing out amidst the —finally - complete work for Grogars snivelling adjutant, Hydia. It would inevitably be checked over supper, as was my habit. Speaking of food, the tell-tale hum of the microwave indicated Sonata had started her daily binge on Tacos. The girls dietary habits worried me, but then again I couldn't really talk. A kale and avocado smoothie currently sat on the desk, burning my eyes out with its luminosity.
Taking a tentative slurp, the expected shudder ran through my system. These things had been awful five years ago, and they'd never got better since. My condition required a balance of limited action and 'unique' dietary choices. After all this time, I could just about function. So much for human adaptability. Still, when did medicine ever taste good?
"Oh, you remember... ," a serpentine voice hissed in my mind. Ah, base treachery. Gotta love the human brain. The familiar ache begins to reverberate in my arms, like someone strumming a guitar string. Drowning it in another gulp of the smoothie helps momentarily. Memories of sandstone bricks, bloody knuckles and cold, pitiless eyes do a better job. I jump up from the desk, seeking busy work to keep my mind occupied. Paperwork was fine, but it let me drift, with an hour till my next client, action was needed. Thankfully, there would inevitably be a few bills to catch up on, calls to be made, that kind of thing. Time killers, but they got me active. A small smile rose from within. My secretary was reliably unreliable.
"Sonata do you-", the words turned to ash in my mouth. The girl was chatting animatedly whilst pouring a cup of coffee for a well-dressed woman, a familiar, well-dressed woman. As her eyes met mine, I felt my veins turn to ice. She was standing in my kingdom, my home, my little slice of heaven. The Devil had entered Eden and her name was...
"Cadenza."
"Calmy.", it was a professional tone, full of the kind of false sincerity every middle manager gave before firing you. "I was just telling your secretary how we me-"
"What do you want? " I spat, years worth of training paying off as I somehow managed to keep a neutral posture. One smile, though, and I felt it pushed to the brink. This was going to get ugly.
Moving out of the crossfire, Sonata snapped her fingers rather theatrically," Ill... uh... take the rest of my break now if that's OK boss?" I waved her away, in no mood for fun and games. Perhaps it was living with two sisters, but my secretary had a good sense for when an argument was about to break out and the smarts to have an exit manoeuvre ready. Scrambling out of the building, she grabbed her lukewarm "Mexican" fare, flashing a concerned look as she went.
"So." Cadenza began dryly, shifting a large satchel on her shoulder "Now you're done being a grump to your staff. Can we talk like adults?"
Snarling, I stormed up to the women till we were eye to eye. "No. You don't get to say a damn thing! " She frowned, and a dark glee filled my soul, "You think you can just waltz in here after fifteen years and talk like nothing happened. Nothing at all? No, no way in hell!" long cooled embers roared to life within me. If the serpents voice in my mind had a face, it would certainly be grinning now. She baulked at my aggression, a step backwards nearly tumbling her as a heel caught the carpet. "Good," the serpent whispered, gorging on her discomfort.
"C-calmy p-lease I just want-"
"I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU WANT!", the beast was in control now. The snake triumphant as tears formed in the woman's eyes. She had hurt me, hurt me in so many ways. This was merely the smallest down payment of all the pain she owed me. I'd expected explosions, expected her to run. The Cadenza of old had flight or fight, no in-between. What I hadn't foreseen was this trembling women standing her ground. Mascara laden tears running down a face many -myself included at one point- considered beautiful.
"That's... that's fine, Calmy. I knew this wouldn't be easy." Her voice wavered as she gulped down air. "I just thought you could help an ex student of mine. Someone young and troubled." Helping others? It was like a beacon of light in the dark, an uncomfortable revelation of my current state, a man full of rage and hate taking joy in others' misery. I could almost smell the desert air and feel the needles once more. Shame bubbled up as my malice faded. The serpent dragged back to its hole, corralled by layer upon layer of compartmentalisation. This wasn't me.
Steadying myself on Sonata's desk, exhaustion slammed into me like a dump truck. I was a fool. My lifestyle was maintained by conserving energy at the best of times, now though? Well, all that rage and hate had taken back what it gave so freely. "Why me?" I sigh, desperately fighting to overcome the wave of fatigue.
She looked at me, a blend of concern and sadness on her features before uttering one word. There were more of course, but only that one mattered. Oblivious to its effect, she began unloading her satchel, laying documents out on a chair, no doubt intending to talk them over with me.
"Get. Out." The rage was different now, not infused with the bleak cruelty of an animal but with the white-hot intensity of a star. She looked shocked, even confused, but could tell when her time was up, whatever courage that had pushed her here had run out. With each second that passed a hundred thousand gears span in my mind, fists shaking, blood pounding. She couldn't be here anymore. I'm not a violent man, I never was. Never could be. I told a lot of people that once. I'd refused to give them satisfaction for years. Right this second though? I'd prove them right, with interest. She fumbled with the paperwork, mumbling some inane apology as she gathered the sheets, as if 'sorry' could do anything now after all this time.
"LEAVE. NOW!"
For the second time today, the door slammed shut, a woman leaving in discomfort. Street goers were staring, a free show was always welcome in Canterlot. My world was whirling though, and a dark nostalgia overcame me. I could feel all thirty-six specific points screaming now, arms burning. Anxiety and fatigue grappled within my body, nausea sweeping through like an unwelcome guest. Managing to stagger to the fridge, (thankfully out of the publics sight), I took the only recourse possible. I gorged. It was paradoxical in a way. I disliked sugar. It interfered with the ad-hoc system I’d come up with to deal with my exhaustion and the benefits fell off too quickly. Simultaneously, it was something that I needed when I was having...a struggle. I'd pay Sonata back, the girls' chocolate collection having been sacrificed with her gummies next on the menu.
I hated this. I hated it so much. The only thing I despised more right now was Cadenza and her request. I'd do it though, not for her, maybe not even for the client, but because of what she said. After all, who'd have expected the high and mighty Cadenza Mi Amore to believe in magic?