Shoot high, aim low

List in hand, I march myself to the shrink with a sense of foreboding. I am not looking forward to this conversation. I don’t want to discuss my positive attributes – I want to talk about how to make something of myself, about how to make changes in my life. About how to stop standing in my own way.

But it’s all related, see. I learn this when I get there and we have to talk about the list. As I rattle off such accolades as “strangely immune to pain” and “good at fixing jumbo stapler,” my mind wanders. I think about the fact that in nine months of seeing this woman, I have never, even seen her wear trousers. I think about her romantic life, her private agonies, and her ability to go through an entire day without snagging her stockings.

She is sharp and impressive, making connections, asking astute questions, tying things together in a way that reminds me, once again, that therapy is as much an intellectual exercise as an emotional one.

Suddenly, I am a puddle, tearing through her box of tissues at an alarming rate.

I’m stuck, I say. I want to become unstuck, but I don’t know how.

"I have a concrete suggestion for you," she says.

What is it?

“Contemplate mediocrity.”

That sounds like the name of an indie rock band from Omaha.

She ignores me. “If the thought of mediocrity is paralyzing you, then think about allowing yourself to be utterly mediocre at something.”

So I’m supposed to lower my standards? That doesn’t sound particularly therapeutic.

“How will you try anything new if you expect yourself to be the best at everything you do?”

This is a good point. I don’t know the answer to this question.

I’ve been dabbling in mediocrity for some time now, so perhaps it won’t be much of a job to master it.

“Good. Be mediocre!”

I will! Lackluster, even!

“Completely unremarkable!”

Totally unexceptional!

“Great. See you next week.”

And there endeth the strangest therapy session known to man.


Illustration by Cecilia Carlstedt. See more of her work here. Via the very wonderful Spiralbound.