Friday, January 20th

140.)

"Can I bring up something new?" I asked. Stephanie and I had spent half the session talking about Encanto. Oftentimes, Stephanie would say things that I outright disagreed with. Or, worse, she would say things I agreed with but they didn't serve my narrative enough to agree with her. But then she said something about my relationship with Blossom "going well" and I made a smart-ass quip about the relativity of that phrase. That's when I thought to bring it up.

"Sure, whatever you want."

Stephanie settled back into her chair. She always leaned forward when our conversations got serious, then back again when we changed topics. I wasn't sure how intentional that was.

"I'm noticing that... uh... with Blossom sometimes, but also with my mom... and at work, if I'm in a bad mood... I'm kind of a bitch?"

"Really?" Stephanie asked. "How so?"

"Like, I don't know. I'm just rude. I snap at people, or I push them. Sometimes I lie, just to lie. Like, when my Aunt Patty - my boss - told me to change my export format. I said it didn't matter. And like, it does matter. I was just being rude."

"You were frustrated," Stephanie offered. "We don't like being corrected. That's very human."

"No, I wasn't frustrated," I corrected her. "I didn't really care at all. And she was right - the other format was better. And it makes my workflow easier. I wasn't upset at all."

"Then why did you..." Stephanie reached for an accurate word, "snap at her?"

"I have no idea," I sulked. "I just like to be mean sometimes..."

"Hm..."

Stephanie nodded her head and asked for clarification. She did that a lot.

"Do you have another example?"

"Um, well with Blossom..." I paused. I had to pick my words carefully if I was going to talk about Blossom. "She will offer to get me a drink or something when she gets up. And I'll say I can do it myself."

"Self-sufficiency? Not wanting to be babied?"

Oh, quite the opposite Miss Therapist.

"No, I want her to get me something. I just want to tell her I don't want it. And I want her to kind of just do it anyway..."

"Like a test?" Stephanie asked. "Seeing how well she knows you?"

"Maybe?" I sulked, spinning the little magnet rings around my fingers. "I feel awful, manipulating her like that. Acting like I don't want something. Then getting disappointed if she doesn't do it. Like... I dunno... I hate that I'm making everything harder on her for no reason."

"Well, I'm sure there's a reason. Maybe you just need more proof sometimes? Like, listening to you isn't enough proof that she knows you or cares about you. Sometimes defying you is how she can prove that?"

"That doesn't feel right..." I don't know why exactly, but it felt too foreign to be the right answer. It felt like hearing something you hadn't heard before, and usually when Stephanie said something that applied to me it clicked. That didn't click.

"Hm... maybe you just don't want to have your needs met? We've talked before how you feel like you're a burden on people. Maybe Blossom getting you a drink feels like a burden?"

I shook my head again. It didn't explain the thing with Aunt Patty.

"It's almost the opposite. I want to burden her? But I know I shouldn't want to burden her... but why would I want to burden her anyway? It's like, after watching Encanto, I keep realizing that I want to do all these bad things."

So I asked the big question: "Am I just a bad person?"

"I think context matters a lot when you talk about something being good or bad. Honestly, those judgements are really damaging to people. Wanting to be 'good'. Wanting to avoid being 'bad'. You can't prove objective goodness, so it becomes unachievable. And that's just another way to hurt yourself."

"So why do I want to do these bad things, then?"

"Well, let's remove the judgment. What kinds of things are you actually wanting to do? Like when you tell Blossom you can do things yourself?"

"I... um..." I paused to think about it. What was the goal? For her to do it anyway. But if that was the goal, then I could just tell her to do it. There had to be more to it than that.

"Think out loud," Stephanie reminded me. She had been reminding me of that a lot lately.

"I say no... I want her to do it anyway. Because. I want to... cause trouble? That's not right though..."

"What function is this serving?" Stephanie reframed.

"It puts me at odds with Blossom. Or Aunt Patty. Or whoever."

"And forces them to overcome those odds?" Stephanie asked.

"No, like... that's not it. I don't want them to overcome me. I almost want them to... disregard me. Like I'm just talking to myself."

"Interesting."

"But why would I want that? I want to be heard! I want people to understand me! Not ignore me! Ugh!"

"You can want two things," Stephanie shrugged.

"That's not an answer," I said sharply. "That's nothing."

Stephanie paused. Then she said: "Was that one of those snappy things?"

"No, that time I meant it."

"So, when you're snapping, you don't mean it?"

Then it was my turn to pause. I didn't mean it when I told Aunt Patty the file format didn't matter. I didn't mean it when I told Blossom I could get myself a drink.

"I guess not? I'm just... lying for the sake of lying."

"So when you're lying, you want to be ignored. When you're being sincere, you want to be heard."

"I guess? But that doesn't explain the first part. Why do I want to lie at all? Why do I want to be ignored? I'm just being a brat for no reason."

"That's a good word for it," Stephanie said. "It sounds a lot closer to you being a brat than you being a bitch."

Admittedly, the word was a slip of the tongue. I'd been trying to avoid it. I was trying to keep Little stuff out of the conversation. But what if it had to be part of the conversation? What if it was a missing piece? I couldn't talk to Stephanie about that...

"Think out loud," Stephanie reminded me again. I sighed.

"People tell you all kinds of things, right?" I asked. "Like, abusive stuff or sex stuff or whatever."

"Those two things are definitely in different categories, but yes," Stephanie assured. "People talk to me about a lot of stuff."

"So if I told you something weird, it's not a big deal?"

"I would encourage it," Stephanie said. "Part of the joy of therapy is confidentiality. I can't tell anyone anything."

"I'm not worried about anyone else," I admitted. "I'm worried what you'll think of me..."

"Does that matter?" Stephanie asked.

"Yes. Very much."

"Hm..." Stephanie nodded in understanding. Then she said: "Then let me assuage your concerns. I don't think you are defined by any one thing, no matter what it is. I don't think you're a bad or weird person, and I wouldn't think that even if I disagree with you. Even if you killed someone, I wouldn't think less of you. I can't possibly comprehend the circumstances of your life or your choices, no matter how much I learn about you. So I have no right to pass judgment on you.

"But the more you tell me, the more likely I am to be able to help. Whether that help means overcoming your urge to kill. Whether that help means overcoming the trauma of having done so. Whether that help is just having someone to talk to about it, knowing that someone knows other than you. Unless you're a threat to yourself or someone else, my purpose as your therapist is to advocate for your wants and needs. Your safety. Your goals. And the courage to tell me something scary will only make me think higher of you, not lower. Do you understand?"

"I think so..." I mumbled, pulling at the magnetic rings. "I think... I just want you to like me and be proud of me. But I know you're my therapist, so that's not a fair thing to want."

"On the contrary, Amanda. I do like you. And I am proud of you. As long as you trust me and respect my need to prioritize you, I can't imagine a situation where that changes."

"Oh..." She was proud of me? I didn't understand why, but... Stephanie had never lied to me. She had no reason to. And I wasn't always the best judge of myself. Maybe there was something to be proud of.

"So?" Stephanie asked. "I admit... I am curious."

"Ha... well, it's not as interesting as killing someone. But, uh... I like... to..." Jeeze. This was so fucking awkward. I'd never had to tell anyone before! Even Blossom already knew...

"I like to... pretend to be a kid sometimes. And dress up like one. And. Blossom knows. She's kind of the same way. So... I dunno. It just makes me feel cute. And the world feels less exhausting. And... yeah..."

"Okay..." Stephanie nodded. "I know a little about ageplay? Is that similar to this?"

"Yes, very similar."

"Okay. Alright. That makes sense. Thank you for telling me. I have some other questions, if you don't mind answering them?"

"I don't mind."

"Cool. When you pretend, how old do you pretend to be?"

"Uh..." I had never thought about it. "Five? I think?"

"What's your favorite thing to do when you're pretending?"

"Uh... I really have no idea... maybe writing? But I'm not always feeling... uh... I don't know. It's complicated."

"Okay, that's fair." Stephanie thought about something, then said: "I'm going to backpedal a little. I realize language is really important to you, as a writer, and you seem really anxious about this. Should I learn any words? I don't want to say the wrong words."

"Um." Fuck, okay... "Well, I usually say... Little? Like, um. I'm feeling Little. Acting Little. I don't say pretend."

"Got it. That makes sense. Anything else?"

"I don't know right now... just avoiding like, clinical terms? Infantilism or whatever. Ageplay is fine."

"Gotcha. Yeah, that makes sense too. It's a safe space for you, and you don't need me psychology-ing it up."

"Ha, yeah, something like that..."

"Hm..." Stephanie thought for a moment, but decided on an unusual question. "Is there anything I'm not asking you that I should be?"

"Like... what?"

"Like, something you want me to ask. Something you want to say, but you need me to ask first."

Well, the band-aid was already halfway off. I didn't want it dangling and getting stuck on things. It was best to get it over with.

"What I wear... I guess?"

"Right." Stephanie cleared her throat, like she was starting over. "So what do you wear when you're Little?"

"I have a onesie," I admitted. Because it was easier. "And... sometimes... like... not all the time... but, diapers... kind of..."

"Oh, okay. My friend knows someone who is into that, but like, as a kink thing. Yours is..." Stephanie suddenly seemed a little nervous. "I assumed this wasn't a kink thing, but I don't want to assume things."

"It's kind of a kink thing..."

"Gotcha. Okay. I think I'm caught up now."

"And... this is okay?" I asked. "Like, it's not weird?"

"It's not my normal," Stephanie said plainly, "but it's yours. And it seems important to you, so I want to learn about it."

"Okay, cool..."

We were both quiet for a moment, but then Stephanie said, rather startlingly:

"Oh! This explains a lot!"

"Uh... what does...?"

"You being Little. You were wondering why you like to lie and cause trouble, right? Because it's childish. You're just trying to validate yourself, and acting like a brat is no different than acting like a little kid."

Okay, now that clicked.

"But I don't want to cause problems," I tried.

"No, adult Amanda doesn't. But adult Amanda puts a lot of pressure on herself to be thoughtful and considerate and responsible, and Little Amanda lashes out a bit to remind you she's there."

"I'm not two people," I said flatly.

"No, you're a dozen people. You think Therapist Stephanie is the same as At Home Stephanie? Or With My Friends Stephanie? No way."

"But... I'm a brat all the time. Even when I'm not Little."

"There's overlap, sure. All those versions of me are different, but sometimes in session I don't act like a therapist. Sometimes I act like a friend, or a companion. Sometimes I eat in session with clients I trust. Sometimes I talk about my home life to make connections. Sometimes, when I'm in a bad mood, I am short and rude to clients."

"Seriously...?"

"Seriously. That first week, when I told you to have a panic attack? I'm really glad that worked out, because it was bad advice for a first session. I was upset because I'm trying to buy a house and it's going nowhere. I wanted to see change. I wanted to see something happen. And I rushed you."

"Oh..." I paused to think about her advice. Yeah, I thought it was rash. But at the same time, it was really helpful. "I'm glad you told me to have a panic attack though. So don't feel bad."

"Sometimes things work out that way," Stephanie laughed. "They don't always."

"So when I'm a brat..." I mumbled, thinking through the context in my head.

"You're just trying to be you. You're showing other people that you're sometimes a kid, but you're doing it without dressing up. You're sharing part of yourself with them."

"But they'll get annoyed..."

"Hm... I don't think so." Stephanie sat forward in her chair. "It's like in Encanto. You don't have to be perfect for people to like you. This part of you, the part of you that wants to be a selfish kid sometimes, isn't perfect. But it's you. And people will like you anyway."

"And if they don't...?" I asked.

"Then they probably wouldn't like Little Amanda very much. In which case... are they worth trusting?"

I guess she had a point. It's easy to say "if people don't respect you, then don't keep them around". It boils down a lot of nuance into generalizations. But that wasn't what Stephanie was saying. She was saying, if someone was able to like me for me, then part of being me was being kind of bratty sometimes. I didn't have to be that way with everyone, but with people I trusted? My mom, Lin, Blossom, even my Aunt Patty? They kind of liked my snarkiness, didn't they? Even if they didn't, they at least tolerated it. They had never complained.

"But what about when I'm Little? And I still act like a brat? That happens with Blossom sometimes... I keep lying and saying I don't want things that I actually do want."

"Well... I don't know a lot about your Little self," Stephanie preluded, "but I bet there's still a lot of adult Amanda in those times too. Overthinking, overempathizing? Constantly worried about screwing up?"

She wasn't wrong.

"So maybe you act like a brat to turn that off. To remind yourself, and Blossom or whoever you're with, that you're not just an adult playing dress-up. You really are a little girl sometimes."

"Even if I say things I don't actually want?" I asked.

"Especially if you say things you don't actually want," Stephanie laughed. "That's such a childish thing to do."

I nodded. All this was a lot of information, and I wasn't even sure if Stephanie was right. I didn't know what I was supposed to assimilate into my understanding of myself, and I didn't know what I was supposed to question and improve upon. It felt like a big jumble of new stuff to sort through, and I didn't have time.

"Can I think about this for a while?" I asked Stephanie.

"Of course," she said. "Consider it your homework."

"Okay..."

"And Amanda? Thanks for telling me about this. I'm really proud of you."

I still wasn't sure why Stephanie was proud, but I wanted to believe her. And I wanted to get what I wanted.