Periodically until our book releases, we plan to share an excerpt so you can get to know more about what’s inside:<\/p>\n
PROLOGUE– VIEW A VIDEO OF THIS PROLOGUE, HERE<\/a>.<\/p>\n The Internal Dialogue of a New Patient Being Sick and Tired of Being Afraid and Stuck<\/p>\n Fear. Raw, exhausted, angry and anguished. Fear. I unfold the paper I scrawled the appointment info on and look at it for the \u2013nth<\/em> time today: Scott Matthews, Ph.D., Clinical Psychologist. Today\u2019s date, 15 minutes from now<\/em>. I wonder if it\u2019s possible to throw up when fear is all I have inside me? I close my eyes, inhale a shaky breath, and exhale a sob past the fear clutching my windpipe. When I open my eyes and regard myself in the visor mirror, I fully expect to see handprints on my throat. I need help.<\/p>\n It\u2019s a house. The doctor\u2019s office: it\u2019s a house; I think it\u2019s called a Victorian, with a steep-pitch roof and the first floor is rounded on one side. The trees in the front yard nearly dwarf the house. The place just screams<\/em> \u201cpermanence.\u201d Rose bushes nearly overtake the wrap-around porch on one side, and ivy climbs a trellis on the other. Doesn\u2019t look that scary. Come on, now, just take a big breath and open the car door. Feet on the ground. See, that wasn\u2019t so hard. Next goal: make it to the front door. I manage to introduce myself\u2014I kind of choke on my own spit\u2014but if he notices, he doesn\u2019t say anything. He just invites me in, and I follow him. Dr. Matt smiles. \u201cOne of my patients made that for me.\u201d Periodically until our book releases, we plan to share an excerpt so you can get to know more about what’s inside: PROLOGUE– VIEW A VIDEO OF THIS PROLOGUE, HERE. The Internal Dialogue of a New Patient Being Sick and Tired of Being Afraid and Stuck Fear. Raw, exhausted, angry and anguished. Fear. I am here. … Continue reading
\nI am here. If Hell exists, it surely feels like this.
\nI called this doctor because if I didn\u2019t, I was not sure that I would still be here\u2014that is, alive<\/em>\u2014today, to be parked outside this psychologist\u2019s office, staring through my rain-spattered windshield, catching random glances of the steps that will transport me from where I am, in the darkness of the pit, to hope.
\nMy hands are shaking so hard that I may not be able to open the car door, and the bones in my legs seem to have disappeared along with the courage I had this morning when I was looking forward to this, to relief, to the possibility of hope. All day, I have thought of nothing but this appointment, and with every passing hour, my chest tightened and my stomach churned. My arms feel heavy. My nerves are shot. My chin quivers even though I\u2019ve made up my mind not to cry anymore, because that\u2019s a joke, and both my chin and I know it.<\/p>\n
\nThe paper\u2019s starting to look like it\u2019s been in the rain: the day I made the appointment, my teardrops smeared the ink, and new ones threaten to make Matthews<\/em> look like Matt<\/em>\u2014which is kinda weird since that\u2019s what my friend told me she calls him: Dr. Matt<\/em>.<\/p>\n
\nWhat is he going to ask me, and should I tell him everything? What will he think of me if I do? He may not even want to help me once he gets to know me\u2014if I tell him everything. But if I don\u2019t, how will the hurting stop?
\nMaybe my friends are right; maybe my mother-in-law is right; maybe that article I read about getting over bad stuff is right; maybe I don\u2019t need to be here after all: I can just think about something else and make up my mind that it won\u2019t hurt anymore and . . . and . . . dammit, if I cry, I\u2019m gonna have to go in there looking like I\u2019ve been crying and nobody walks into his office while they\u2019re crying, do they?
\nThe thing is, none of those people telling me, \u201cJust get over it\u201d know what it\u2019s like inside my head. They don\u2019t<\/em>, and it pisses me off that they all think it\u2019s that easy; that I can just snap my fingers and it will stop hurting to be . . . me.<\/p>\n
\nThere are none. It\u2019s all in my head.
\nBut that\u2019s the problem: I can\u2019t get it<\/em>\u2014the stuff that makes my life a living hell\u2014out of my head, which . . .How did I get to this place? To\u2014to here<\/em>, where my mind is my enemy. I sort of remember being happy, what that felt like, and I\u2019ve tried<\/em> for so long to use some elusive emotional muscle memory that will snap me out of this and elevate my\u2014my\u2014SELF\u2014from the dark pit I find myself in every day, from the moment I awaken and remember the Hell is real. This pit has claw marks and my fingers are raw from attempting to escape it. But I am tired, and I have no more will to try on my own.<\/p>\n
\nWait<\/em>! The door\u2019s opening, and a lady is coming out, followed by a gray-haired man. They must be together\u2014no, she\u2019s leaving, and he\u2019s turning to go back inside.
\nI think he saw me. I\u2019m tempted to dive back into my car and drive away, but instead I force myself toward the man, who is waiting at the top of the steps.
\nTo my surprise, my wobbly legs are able to carry me across the small parking lot, onto the sidewalk, and up to where this slightly-built man wearing a crewneck t-shirt, jeans, and boots is waiting for me. He smiles, and his eyes\u2014they\u2019re this clear, cornflower shade of blue\u2014are kind.
\nHe extends his hand. \u201cI\u2019m Scott Matthews. Most folks call me \u2018Dr. Matt.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n
\nMy insides are vibrating with fear. But as we pass through the reception area, a woman behind a tall counter says, \u201cHello.\u201d
\nDr. Matthews stops to introduce us. \u201cThis is my practice partner, Leslie Trevi\u00f1o. Her office is that way\u201d\u2014he gestures toward a hallway\u2014\u201cand mine is just over here.\u201d The place smells faintly of lemon, and even though this home is a therapy office, its homey d\u00e9cor is welcoming.
\nThe wood floor creaks as Dr. Matthews leads me to a smaller office. \u00a0He excuses himself a moment, and while I\u2019m waiting for him, I look at the artwork on the wall just outside the office.
\n3 framed pieces of embroidery read, \u201cLittle and Often Makes Much\u201d, \u201cHope is the Opposite of Fear\u201d, and \u201cSuccess is Survival. We\u2019ll all tuff it out\u201d.
\nThe floor announces his return, and Dr. Matt joins me at the artwork. \u201cReady to get started?\u201d
\nI read the words aloud, even though my voice shakes: \u201cHope is the opposite of fear.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n\u201cDo\u2014do you think it\u2019s true? That\u2014that if a person has hope, they can be\u2014not so afraid?\u201d
\nHe nods. \u201cI do.\u201d He moves to his office and holds the door for me.
\n\u201cIf I have a choice,\u201d I say, \u201cI choose hope.\u201d I follow him in, and I tell him my story.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"