Where I expected to return home sad and teary-eyed, thinking I’d probably never see Stacey again as long as I had no setbacks, I am instead flying high with excitement, flattery and shock.

Yeah, I was very wrong in assuming this visit would be different and that she’d be all serious and all professional.

I’ve always liked Stacey. Always. Not the jump-in-bed-with-her kind of like, but over the last 3 sessions a bond has formed between us that I first thought was pretty much one-sided. But… Those subtle “signs.” Some things she’d say. The way she’d say them. Things I thought were just wishful thinking were actually my intuition being right on again. I’m sitting here mumbling OMG, OMG, OMG over and over. She likes me too!!! twirls with delight

She’s one of those that’s attractive but not. Yeah, there’s something about her, and yes, she looks great for 57, but you won’t find yourself undressing her with your eyes or indulging in wet fantasies about her either as opposed to just hanging out, holding hands or maybe a little cuddling on the couch to a movie. At the same time, would I be interested in the whole package if we were single and she was interested? Hell fucking yeah. I’m sure I would be. She’s too wonderful not to be.

To describe her physically, she’s short like me, but not as feminine. She’s not tomboyish either. She’s slim, has dark eyes and dark shoulder-length hair, wears little to no makeup, but does dress femininely. Conservatively, but feminine. She wears jewelry, but nothing colorful or flashy like what I wear. I’ve only seen her in pants, though I saw a picture of her in a black dress. She was smoking hot too, so ok, perhaps there’s a little attraction on my part. Yes, I did notice she has a nice smile and even a sexy nose. Yes, I did notice how nice her ass looked in her jeans one day when she had her back to me scheduling our next appointment.

“We’re even opposites with nails,” I joked with her, and it was true. She had tan nail polish on, though her style suited her well.

Anyway, I sensed something was up that was mutual, but didn’t want to let myself believe it really meant anything. But after today I’m able to look back on some of our past discussions, and well, the signs were there. I said some things that might’ve very well made other counselors feel not so much as offended but they may have been uncomfortable. Stacey, on the other hand, seemed genuinely flattered when I joked with her about how we never would’ve met had we skipped Oregon and California and gone straight to Florida from Arizona.

There were other things I recalled from the meeting before last. How I talked about being attracted to opposites as opposed to carbon copies and the way she said, “You like hanging around with those who are calmer, huh?” You’d had to have been there as I was to pick up what I picked up. It wasn’t so much what she said but how she said it.

You know how we sometimes tense up with delight when we receive a compliment or good news? Well, when we were talking about working out and I told her she looked great, she did just that and grinned. Well, I’m flattered that she was flattered when I told her this and things like how much I appreciated all she’s done for me.

The way she told me I was very bright, along with a few other things right down to her body language, I had quickly filed as misinterpreted or wishful thinking, even if the part of me that’s good with reading people knew she probably wouldn’t act like that with just anybody. There was something there and I clearly felt the connection. The way she said, “Maybe someday you’ll be surprised,” when I said I wouldn’t mind having someone I was close to who lived near me, but after being burned and not in a position to meet others easily, I knew I might never have that.

Bumping me up was another thing I looked back on and wondered about. At the time I didn’t think much of it, but when I had to see her again in June, I was told by her assistant that she was all booked up and I couldn’t get in till mid-July. But then she calls me right back after calling Stacey’s private line and tells me to come in in a few days.

It’s the blog that threw me. A while back I gave her my blog address, then a session or two later I asked if she’d visited it and she said, “No, sorry.” I wondered if there was some rule about doctors looking in on patients’ blogs and whatnot, even though I’d never heard of one, and I know that my dentist, old endo and possibly Dr. A have been to my blog. My main Blogger blog that is. That’s why I’m careful what I say over there.

So I figured that if I had been reading her right and she really liked me as a person and not just as a patient, then she would’ve been to the blog, right? Well, I’ll get to that in a minute.

Initially, we began talking about the anxiety that brought me to her in the first place. She’s just as glad that I’ve continued to be anxiety-free. She asked me why she thinks I’m doing better right now. I said, “Well, probably because I don’t have any statins or other scary drugs to deal with right now, and a wonderful genius taught me some tricks.” This was in reference to the emotional tapping, which I admitted to slacking off on at times when doing better.

I told her I was a little stressed out about all the appointments I have next month, and that I thought of getting another doctor, but they’re just going to tell me the same thing… I need statins. Just because I’m not panicking these days doesn’t mean I still don’t have a medication phobia. I’ve always been sensitive to medication, too.

She asked who my doctor was and I told her. “That’s who I thought it was,” she said.

Speaking of phobias, we talked about my driving phobia and she asked if I’d tried to conquer it. I have, but never felt comfortable at the wheel, couldn’t have afforded a car most of my younger adult life anyway, so why put my life and others at risk? She agreed it’s best not to push it. This subject came up when I was pointing out that while I do want to come out of my protective shell a bit more, it’s not easy meeting new people when you work at home and everyone has their standards of “normal” that they tend to gravitate to. But as I told her, I’m never going to be a God-loving nine-to-fiver who drives and has a politically correct bleeding heart for Muslims and blacks.

“I have no problem with individuals that are kind to me, but as a whole, I don’t like these violent groups.”

“Makes sense to me,” she said.

We talked about my being undecided on things like God and the afterlife. Dream premonitions I totally believe in because I’ve personally had them, and it turns out that she’s had them, too. Hers have also been mostly negative. Wow. Pretty neat.

“Sometimes I think there must be a God since I met a wonderful person like you,” (big grin on her part), “but then I think, nah. Not with all the shit that goes on in this world.”

She said it’s ok to be undecided. I agree. Besides, just because we decide on something doesn’t necessarily mean we’re right, does it?

Backing up to the beginning of the appointment… this is the first time there were a few others in the waiting room, but they were civilized. A few minutes before 8:30, she came out the door by the desk, looked over at me and smiled, then said something about copying a form to a guy I’d never seen before that was probably new.

She got a kick out of the dreams I told her she was in. Yeah, on the way down the long hall to her office I told her it was nice seeing her in my dreams a few times over the last month.

At the start of our session, I told her that the answer to her question, “What next?” hit me on the way home the last time I saw her. I asked her if she wanted to hear the realistic one first or the fantasy. She laughed and said, “Realistic.” So I told her about my goal, which I’ve definitely been accomplishing. This one entails not letting the thought of an anxiety attack keep me from going out walking alone. Tom and I still prefer to work out together because it’s more fun that way, but when he’s not available, I’m going out by myself more and more often.

Then I told her the fantasy. I said, “Don’t laugh, but I think a sexless affair with a woman might be nice. Might add fun variety to my life to have someone I see periodically that I’m into that’s into me back.”

She didn’t laugh.

“You asked me how Tom and I got along. You didn’t ask me how we got along in bed. I’m not embarrassing you by talking about this, am I?”

She shook her head, and I went on to say that at my age since the libido really does go to hell as menopause sets in, I don’t feel that I need to add a female “fuck buddy” to my life. Just someone I really like and feel comfortable with who feels the same about me that I see every now and then would be nice.

She asked if I was putting any energy into this goal, and as I reminded her, it’s not easy to meet people when you work at home. No relationship I’ve ever had, be it sexual or not, has ever been sought out, forced, made or planned. They always happen by “accident.”

She said it seemed like a reasonable goal and asked if I would be ok if I didn’t get it. As I told her, it wouldn’t kill me if I didn’t. When do I ever get the people that I want in that way whether it’s just for friends or anything more? Courtney, Maliheh, Melanie, Johnson, Liz, Jane, Alyssa… when did I ever get any of them?

We talked about different people I’ve known, what attracts me and what doesn’t, like butchy types.

“You don’t like that?” she asked.

“No. To each their own as I certainly don’t judge, but if I liked that I’d have been totally straight and nothing but. I used to like ultra-feminine women, but now I like them in the middle. They don’t have to be as colorful and as flashy as me, but I like women that look like women.”

We talked about a million different things. The fact that we’re both Jewish, even though I don’t practice any religion. She said she’s not good with languages but can read some Hebrew, Spanish and French. I told her I read, write and speak Spanish, Italian and German, and can read a lot of Portuguese, French, Esperanto and Dutch. Plus there’s my ASL.

She agrees German is ugly and I told her that was my “accidental” language and how I “met” Nane and we became cyber girlfriends till we had a fight and it all ended.

“Ever have regrets?” she asked.

“I miss her at times, but she was too judgmental for my tastes,” I said.

“Did you ever think of going to any of these countries and speaking the languages?” she asked me. Yes, I told her, I’ve been to Puerto Rico where I pretended not to know what “No tocar” meant when I was souvenir shopping.

She laughed and said I must really be wired for language learning, and I said, “I may be fat and ugly, but I love to learn and promised myself I’d get as smart as I could.”

“I think it’s a shame that you think you’re fat and ugly,” she said.

I was a little surprised at this one, and said something like, “Wow, you don’t think so?”

She slowly smiled and shook her head, and I at least agreed I wasn’t the ugliest thing on the planet. I’m ok for my age, but nothing spectacular. I’ve got strong shoulders, a lifted chest thanks to pushups, semi-ripped abs, and rippled calves, but the rest sucks shit big time. ;) I admit I, well… uhem… I paid special attention to clothes and makeup knowing I was going to see her. blushes

We talked about the different states we’ve lived in, and just like I remember the giant spiders, scorpions and cockroaches in Arizona, she got to live with them in Texas for a while. She’s originally from Maryland. She hates rodents, but she doesn’t mind spiders and snakes.

I told her about our life in Auburn versus here. I guess her son lives on the street we used to live on.

We talked about how while it can be hard at times, I’m determined not to think negatively and worry about the future as much. She asked if I worry about having a heart attack or stroke, and as I told her, I know the possibility is there, but it’s not going to happen today or tomorrow if it does.

“I’ll give you that,” she said with a smile.

We talked about Tammy, how our mother tried to pit her against me, and how we became closer when our parents died (I’ve got more to write about her when I’m not so tired).

I said I knew I should probably make out a will since anyone could die at any age, but hadn’t gotten around to it and just never cared what happened to my body. If I was dead, I wouldn’t need my body, so it didn’t matter what happened to it. I was pretty sure, though, that I wouldn’t want to undergo something like chemo if I needed it as it’s not worth the torture this late in life with no children to leave behind for a maybe.

She asked if I’d ever signed a D&R form, and I had no idea what that was till she told me about it. Tom’s heard of Do Not Resuscitate forms, though, and I’m sure Tammy has, too. Well, I did tell Tom that if I were ever in a coma for any reason to just pull the plug, LOL.

I told her she inspired a character in my book (with a different name) and that I usually do suspense with lesbian/bi leads as a show of support for equality. She didn’t ask what the story was about and I didn’t offer any information.

We jumped back in time a bit and I told her about some of the prank calls I’d make. She laughed at that Drinkwine and Drinkwater confusion. “And then karma bit me in the ass and gave me my own funny last name,” I told her.

“Do you ever get sick of listening to people’s problems all day long in this tiny windowless room?” I asked her, and she admitted she did hate the office, which was the only one she’d ever had without a window. She said she was at her private practice once a week and that office was twice as big and had a window. I asked why she split it up like that and it’s cuz you gotta work a certain amount of hours to get benefits.

I said she oughta get wall stickers or one of those window murals. “If you came to my house you’d see them all over our place, but I might tone it down in the next place.”

“Why bother if you like it?” she said.

She’s got a point there, even though I still sometimes wish the place were less busy. Not less colorful, but less busy. It would make dusting easier that way, too.

We talked about where we may move to someday, but as I told her, there are no guarantees. A lot can happen between now and his retirement. When we first came here 9 years ago I only knew 3 languages and could sit on my hair.

She too, loves to go treasure hunting at Goodwill. I was surprised. :) I told her I once collected dolls. She asked what I collected now and I told her I didn’t have any specific thing I collected. Did she? I asked, and she said no.

Then it came up that I’d looked in on her Facebook account, though it’s very private, and was following someone with her name on Pinterest. She was surprised, saying she’s looked in on Pinterest, but doesn’t have an account there. I told her there were two people with her name there, and she asked if the spelling was the same. I had my doubts either were hers because one uses no caps while the other caps the entire last name. I was following Ms. No Caps, but not anymore.

I thanked her for letting me talk about personal things, even though I’m sure she’s heard them before. But just having someone to discuss menopause with is nice. Everyone else either isn’t the talking kind or they had their parts removed.

“I like that you’re older,” I told her. “You get me. Trying to explain the shittiness of perimenopause to your 40-year-old doctor isn’t any easier than the 32-year-old one I had which was only good as eye candy. And I’m not usually into blondes,” I told her the last time around, LOL.

And then it was almost time to go and things got really interesting. And damn surprising. Oh yeah, here goes the good part, folks. I was saying how funny it was that I didn’t want to see her at first and only did so to make my doctor happy. I just didn’t realize just how anxious the trauma had left me and how it couldn’t be fixed as quickly as I’d like. I also had no idea just how much I needed her help and how amazingly helpful she would turn out to be. I felt so incredibly hopeless at one point as my thoughts began to turn dark.

I told her I would probably cancel the shrink appointment since I was stopping the lorazepam anyway. “You’re better than lorazepam,” I told her, and she smiled.

“I’m glad to be doing better, but I’m going to miss the hell out of you,” I told her.

Then, “You can always call my private line.”

Really?

“Do you have my card? You’re always welcome to see me anytime and to call anytime as well.”

I told her I did, and could get info online as well.

She said she just didn’t want me to be upset that she hadn’t been to my blog because that wasn’t something she did.

I told her that was no problem and she wasn’t missing anything anyway since all I was doing was bitching about being dizzy lately (the last few days have been better, though).

That’s when I gave her what I tried to talk myself out of writing down for her at home. “I have something for you,” I told her, standing up and pulling a piece of paper from my pocket. “Since you helped me; if you ever need help with anything I’m good at or you just want a friend, here are a few ways to contact me.”

She shocked me by taking the paper with a delighted smile and thanking me for it. I really thought she was going to tell me that as my counselor she couldn’t do that, but there is a difference between counselors and patients versus regular MDs and patients, after all, just like you can’t really compare your hair stylist to the cashier that rings up your groceries.

I told her that hopefully, I’ll remain anxiety-free and instead of needing to call her, I hope to eventually hear from her instead. Then we stepped over to the door. I thought she was going to hug me and for a split second, I thought of hugging her. Instead, it was all I could do to keep from squealing with hope and joy as I went back down the long hallway, glad to not be the sad, teary-eyed person I expected to be.

So maybe it’s not goodbye forever. I know a lot of people don’t do things they say they’re going to do, but I’d like to think a clinical psychologist with a PHD wouldn’t make such casual agreements. I’ll call if I don’t hear from her within a few months or so, but even if I never do see her again, there will always be a special place in my heart for the lovely Dr. Stacey J A for pulling me out of the quicksand like she did.