Psychology is always the place where open-minded people meet to find a path. An unknown path. Often daunting, oblivious. And sometimes, very rarely… love.
Paige went to a meeting. Her psychologist said it was a good idea to share with those wounded by life, so she could feel she wasn’t alone in her hurt. Paige didn’t like the idea. Because despite the situation the feeling of being the object of criticism stood by, as many times, anxiety always does. Still, she felt brave that day, and as usual, when she was about to make a rough call, she consulted with her aunt.
The woman with deep wrinkles in her smiling face sat placing an ancient-looking deck of cards on the table. Her gray hair fell over the shoulders covered with a colored comfort-looking blouse.
“Are you sure you want to know…?” She jiggled in a gentle, clear voice “Sometimes you miss the sense of surprise”
But anxiety had no patience. Paige nodded, setting her chin above her hands while she looked at the old woman ritually moving the cards, shuffling them, mumbling, and then spreading them skillfully in a line in front of her.
Paige knew the drill, and she chose 3 cards. As the old woman shuffled them back a card fell from the hole. Paige’s aunt gasped, taking the card carefully along with the chosen others.
“The spirits have chosen one for you… How exciting!”
Paige took a deep breath as the long bony hands ordered the deck and slowly turned one of them. The emperor. The clear blue eyes of the woman pierced her young niece.
“Hmm… a man”
Another: The Devil.
“A troubled man… trying to find the wisdom in the desires”
Another: The Pope.
“And yet, consumed by the gnawing teeth of tradition and religion”
Paige’s green eyes were wide as she stood very quiet, not wanting to interrupt the almost divine lecture. Her blonde hair fell around her eyes by inertia. Her aunt’s fingers were now caressing the spirit’s chosen card.
Death.
“Hmm… yes, very troubling. This man is in a critical phase of transformation. And that means chaos. I would suggest most caution, or you might get caught in the middle, sweety” The old cunning woman said gently, wiping the table with her hand to push the cards into place.
That prediction made the way there even heavier. A man? Does that mean he would be interested in her? Well, she might take it. Mental disorders had made her life quite lonely and this man seemed like someone who understood. She desperately needed that right now.
People were placed in a circle of white chairs. As if the spirits were toying with her, the psychologist had invited a tarot reader with an interesting proposal: Everyone will draw a card among the arcane. The idea was that the subconscious mind would choose by itself the card that mostly identifies each individual. Thrilling.
Paige tried to hide her excitement. The spirits were about to reveal “the man” to her but she was also curious about her own hidden feelings. Could be a chance to find something new about herself? Many young people among them shared her age. Many of them are quite handsome even behind their faces scared by the sadness and uncomprehension of a deaf society. A young boy, wearing all black and metallic chains in her pockets stood to her attention and it was his turn to draw a card.
Death.
“Looks like I am going home first, boys!” He joked about his finding.
Everyone laughed except for the psychologist. Paige even louder. When you feel so wrong, inadequate, and rejected suicide becomes a common thing in the mind. After a while, it becomes a perk to joke about every time you have a chance as if to take it out of your head.
“You wish!” The tarot reader said playfully. “It is called the nameless arcane, not death. It actually means transformation. Becoming. It’s a very beautiful thing”
The boy faked disappointment but then looked at the bone character depicted appreciating it carefully.
It was Paige’s time now. She took a deep breath witnessing the gentle smile of the lady, encouraging her to take a card.
The hanged man.
Moreover, it was a very fascinating picture. A smiling boy hanging from the foot blindfolded.
“Very interesting choice! It means wisdom, sacrifice, and divination. I have seen many beautiful people drawing this card. You better try not to waste your gifts!”
Paige showed her card to everyone. The boy in black stared at her, smiling. He seemed delighted that Paige somehow represented such an interesting figure. Struggling to keep eye contact, she failed to hide her blush.
The afternoon passed, and we spoke about how the mind sabotages ourselves to keep a sense of control over the uncontrollable. Learning to surf the bad times was paramount to waking up further into well-being. After that, during recess, Paige attacked the snack platter. So much introspection made her anxious and the crackers with garlic mayonnaise demanded her attention.
“Woah, slow down! Leave something for the starving!”
It was the boy in black approaching to take some crackers too, almost with the same voracity. They both laughed, especially when somebody yelled, begging to leave some for the others who were still behind, talking to each other.
Paige and “The Man” ended up trading numbers after the session. It was a very brief conversation, filled with shy words and innocent staring at each other.
“What was your name again?” Paige asked. The man laughed at his own rudeness, for he had never mentioned it.
“Sandro. Eerie isn't it?”
That night, they chatted a bit more about the weird spiritual experiences they both had. He wanted to meet her aunt very badly. And then, he made a move. Paige could blush strongly in the safety of her bedroom when he proposed to meet at her house.
After a long while to not let her excitement too obvious she accepted.
In the afternoon he appeared at her house in a very old and crashy car. She had the feeling it was representative of him who still came out of it with a joking smile. He was so perfect. Now inside they read poems. He seemed to enjoy them as much as she did. Alejandra Pizarnik. You could swear she suffered depression and anxiety just like they did. He read the verses with an oblivious stare as if feeling every word.
At night, she cooked tasty pasta which they ate, sharing stories of self-improvement on the couch. The connection was growing deep as dark memories came afloat of rejection, of trauma, leading to the feeling of mutual comprehension they very much needed from the lonely sensation some coldhearted families left in the soul, like a scar yet so fresh, beating, needing from the balm of love and caring, warm hands. In a moment, his black eyes were staring straight at her, and she met them, with the warm green of hers. The attraction grew, like a magnetic feeling closing the distance apart so naturally thinking was off… an odd feeling, for those suffering.
So their lips met, melting softly on each other momentarily in a deep, relaxing kiss that shut their craving eyes. She took a deep breath of his presence and he of hers until the mutual scent became a singular one. Time went by unnaturally slow, crushing itself together around them to make the kiss eternal… but something was wrong.
Panting, Sandro softly pushed her, separating from her. Anxiety took grip again, filling her mind with piercing, cruel questions.
“Is… is everything okay?” She asked, reluctantly.
“Yes… “ He gasped for air “... I am just feeling unwell, that’s all”.
“Can I get you anything? water?”
“Nah, I am just too tired I think. I’ll feel better as soon as I crash at home” He stood up. Seemingly even more pale than he already was.
He’s leaving. HE’S LEAVING.
“Oh, ok. Maybe um… It’s for the best”
A dense tension filled the air as they silently approached the door but he didn’t seem to care. Paige felt guilty to notice he was so visibly unwell that she felt relieved, because she wasn’t the problem, right?
“Are you okay to drive?”
“Yeah. Maybe I am coming up with something. You better look out in case I… uh… passed it onto you”
Paige blushed, playing with her fingers remembering the kiss. The feeling was still so fresh.
“Okay. Maybe… let me know when you get home and how you are faring and all”
“Sure”.
The old crashy Toyota complained as he took the reverse.
“Thanks for everything. I really had fun” Sandro added with a faint smile. Paige nodded and he left.
Time can turn slow for dark things too. She couldn’t put the finger on it but a terrible feeling was hanging from her throat making her sigh every other minute. She pulled up her feet on the couch and hugged her legs, rocking herself back and forth looking at the screen on the phone. Was it too soon? Or maybe… she was such a bad kisser? Did she smelled funny?
“Hey, just got home. Imma crash, Text u back tomorrow” The message said.
“Right. See you tomorrow. Take care…”
Paige hugged a cushion real tight. Somehow, she knew.
The next day she waited for the message. What was taking him so long? He tried to distract herself with games, homework, and even house chores. Now she was starting to get mad. She deserved better.
“Hey, sorry I took so long. I think I owe you an explanation”
Do you know that feeling someone very politely is trying to say something hurtful to you? That alarm filled Paige from top to bottom. Still, she responded.
Sandro was a man who suffered from many anxieties. The day before he discovered another one. “Anxiety to intimacy”. Paige had to bear hearing that the kiss they shared left him on the verge of a panic attack and now he was filled with the feeling she was actually dangerous to him. Just texting her was making him so bad in the stomach that he felt the constant urge to puke. PUKE. Paige loved Sandro’s honesty from day one, but now it was way too much. Very oddly, they both shared that in common, for Paige’s mind was being mercilessly filled with accusations and dark voices making her feel she was at fault for everything she also started to feel ill too. Even in that connection, they shared.
Yet, with her feelings being polluted by self-hatred and anxiety she knew in her mind the warm moment they shared was wonderful so she insisted on more and more absent Sandro, who eventually ghosted her.
“Ah, yes… I have met a few people with The Pope on their sexuality card. They always struggled with feeling safe in their own skin” Paige’s aunt said, softly caressing Paige’s hair with her long, soft fingers “I am sorry this happened to you. But don’t give up. You attracted a very handsome fellow… imagine what could have happened if he didn’t suffer so. There’s nothing wrong with you, little babe”
Paige hides her face from her aunt’s chest. Her wise words comforted her but she wouldn’t build the courage to approach someone else for a very long while. Perhaps now she had anxiety about intimacy herself, given that damned crappy experience, but she knew she would have to try, for every fear hides opportunity, as her psychologist said once. The man of her life might be hiding among all those fears she had, and to find him, she would have to fight. At least that much she knew:
She will never give up to anxiety.
