[ getting back to life ]

As I mentioned briefly, I finally made it to my first individual therapy session today.  Were it not for Responsible Wife and her tried-and-true pen-and-paper calendering, I surely would have missed it.  In fact I thought I already had.  I arrived at the wrong building with five minutes to spare before my appointment time.  It’s not generally like me to be later than ten to fifteen minutes early, but the car’s dead, I have an actual job now, etc.  Trouble is, I was in the wrong building.  Active duty sessions are handled by a completely different group, and not in the same location as the family counselors.

On the short drive from point Wrong to point Right, I was already fighting with the receptionist - in my head.  I imagined her scolding me for being late, she was just about to mark me a no-show, she was going to send a message to my Commander, etc.  How sad is that?  I’ve not even met this person, and already I’m being defensive and actually getting angry at her.

The lameness of my emotions was compounded when I learned it was a two-hour session, the first hour consisting of a questionnaire to be completed before the actual session began.

Let’s back up to just before the questionnaire.

As I walked in, five minutes late, I overheard the receptionist on the telephone asking for Sergeant Terry.  I politely butted in and informed her I was Sergeant Terry, “and could you please tell my wife “hello” for me?”   She obliged, and hung up.

Wow, nice timing.  Except not so much.  That was the wrong Terry.  The same Other Terry I have been confused with at least a dozen times now.  His first name is the same as my middle name, making the mix-up even more difficult to diagnose for some people.

Now I’m back at my desk, dutifully recording this event for the historical record, and wondering how the same conversation will play out for the Other Terrys once he gets home.