The Illyrian

NEITHER DID A Treatment (Draft) THE WORLD A therapist's office. Neutral colors. Good furniture. The kind of room designed to make people believe they are safe enough to tell the truth. This is where it begins. This is where, in retrospect, everything was already in motion. THE MAN IN THE CHAIR A new client. Late forties. Successful in the way that doesn't quite satisfy. He comes with the presenting problem men like him always bring: anxiety, a sense of drift, a marriage that has gone quiet in the way marriages do when two people have stopped being curious about each other. But beneath that, something is alive. He is having an affair. He offers this not with guilt but with a kind of bewildered gratitude, as though something has happened to him that he doesn't yet have the language for. She sought him out, he says, or he found her... the details are slightly inconsistent in the way that matters. He describes her carefully and lovingly. The specific gravity of her. The way she...

It takes one second, maybe less, to make the wrong decision. This decision then sets into motion a chain of events that are unconscious to the person who stimulated this reaction. Let me explain. A person turns to light a cigarette. In that fraction of a second they lose the ability to bring their moving vehicle to a stop colliding slightly with the vehicle in front of them. The impact is slight. So slight that the 16 month old infant sleeping her car seat remains sleeping. The slight impact resonates. First there is the shock and realization of the collision. Then there is anger and anxiety. Police are on the scene. Reports are written, insurance is exchanged. Thank you for the ticket, my new insurance card was at home. Time…is ticking. They never seem to rush. Take precautions and go to the hospital. It is 11 pm . More time. The emergency is busy – that’s a surprise. Go to this desk than that one and then come back here. What is your name and health card number? Do you have any...

  Stay in Your Lane On differentiation, vigilance, and the highway inside the nervous system I was driving on the highway the other day. I changed lanes-cleanly, safely and as I did, I automatically glanced at the driver in the next car. It wasn’t dramatic. It was fast. Reflexive. But I caught it. Why did I look? Was I looking for connection? Validation? Approval? At first I might have said yes. I’ve long thought of myself as someone who makes eye contact because I’m relational, connective, attuned. But this felt different. If I’m honest, it wasn’t about being validated. It was about scanning for invalidation. A microsecond check: Are they irritated? Judging me? Threatened? About to challenge me? And then, just as quickly, another voice inside me said: “Stay in your lane.” Not literally. Psychologically. What I meant was: Narrow your view. Hold your ground. Mind your own business. Don’t go fishing for cues about  how you’re being received. ...