Therapy for the
creative and overextended
craving freedom.
Turning off the ignition, you grip the steering wheel, caught between courage and dread. No matter how many times you’ve done this before, dinner is never just dinner… It’s stepping back into a role you’ve played your whole life.
The peacekeeper. The listener. The truth swallower.
The last chorus of Rent’s Seasons of Love (original broadway version, of course)
trails off as your Subaru crunches into the driveway of your parent’s house…
You pick up on moods in the room before anyone says a word, and you’re the one people turn to when they need understanding.
Mark’s gift is seeing what others missed… And you share that.
Your imagination is rich, but self-doubt often keeps your ideas locked away. You crave belonging, yet before and after every social moment, you’re stuck in you’re head…
Anticipating, overthinking, second-guessing.
Your chest tightens as you reach for the doorknob and your stomach churns into a vice.
Inevitably Mom’s going to make some critical comment about your outfit or someone’s going to joke about you being “too sensitive.” Every pause carries the weight of old arguments and unspoken words, a tension that sits heavily without needing to be named.
And you know the version of you they expect to see: agreeable, easy, reliable.
In hindsight, maybe Seasons of Love wasn’t the best track for heading into a night with your family.
You’ve never been the guarded type, but nights like this make you wish you had mastered the skill years ago.
Seasons of love? Try seasons of shame. Note to self: next time que up Beyonce’s Break My Soul or Taylor’s Anti-Hero- something with more armor built in.
You’ve highlighted every other page of Untamed, been in therapy since college, journaled until your hand cramped, and whispered “we can do hard things” like a secret spell.
But the instant your dad makes that familiar comment, or your sister smirks in that way only she can, you’re ten again- bracing for impact.
You’re transported right back to that time, always trying to be “the responsible one,” taking the blame for things you didn’t do just to keep the peace, and navigating everyone else’s moods.
But it’s not just tonight, at this dinner table, is it?