“Listen to me carefully, David. Nothing can control your life. It’s your choices that make you who you are.”
The therapist said these words with the faux intensity that you normally associate with radio fund drives. In response, I essentialized the entirety of my hurt, anger, and confusion in a single, brilliantly worded question of cosmic genius.
“How so?” I asked.
The therapist leaned forward in her chair, radiating self righteous concern.
“These hurts. They can only change you if you let them.”
I think she actually bought what she was saying.
“So, if I just believe in myself, I can actually choose to be a different person, unaffected by my circumstances?”
“Exactly. Find the answers within. Fulfillment is one decision away.”
I’d had enough.
“Bullshit. You’ve got it mixed up. It’s who we are that determines the choices we make, not the other way around. I didn’t choose my screwed up childhood. I didn’t choose for my wife to die, and I sure as hell—” I hit the side of my wheelchair “—didn’t choose this!”