Vaseline in Psychotherapy

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Her eyes were fixed.

Captured.

Held in one place.

Was the spot holding on to her or was she holding onto the spot with her vision?

Everything about her reminded me of a container. She held not only her gaze, but her breath and entire body as well. She gave the impression of a tin can - stiff, yet ready to collapse if squeezed in just the right / wrong spot. The chair held her as though she were the functional, delicate bit of electronics under layers of packaging.

She would not stop staring behind me. The way she refused to let go of even her gaze made it seem as though the spot had become her anchor in an ever-changing world.

What compelled her to continue to stare like that? My mind churned. Sessions had never began like this before. Was there something on my face? A quick wipe of my hand said nope. She was looking just beyond and beside me.

My brow furrowed. What do you see right now? What are you looking at? I had to ask. She shook her head embarrassed and pointed just past me.

I let …