“Well, I grew up on a commune, so I’m pretty immune to embarrassment and shame. I’ve sort of seen and heard it all.”

“Wow, that must have been very difficult growing up.”

“Well, it wasn’t easy. But, I’m not sure I know anyone who can say they had a particularly easy childhood. You know? Mine just sounds really extreme. Except maybe Megan!”

“Who?”

“Yeah, my friend Megan had a great childhood. Only child, wonderful parents. She had it good. They were always…”

“Let’s stick to you. Your life,” my therapist continued. “You were saying that you aren’t easily embarrassed.”

“Right, I mean, is that significant? Should we be talking about that?”

“We can talk about whatever you like. There are no rules.”

“Hmm. Okay. Well, I don’t really know how we can possibly cover everything. It’s a lot.”

“Shall we start from the beginning?”

“Oh. Really? The beginning was so long ago. Can’t we start with, you know, more recent events? It’s just that we’ll be here forever if I have to go back and tell you everything. I’m not trying to hide anything. I’m just saying that, you know, I mean, there’s not much to tell. Commune, lots of kids, lots of women, narcissistic, god-complex of a dad, doormat mom. All the usual stuff. Felt like an outsider my whole life, never felt like I fit in…anywhere. Um, you know, got made fun of a lot. Obviously. Had to lie for years. That was hard. And confusing. Um, yeah, there’s more but..jeez, I don’t know. Can we just skip to the part where my mom dies? I mean, that’s why I’m here. I’m down with talking about all the other stuff. But, that will just take over. There’s too much. There’s always too much once you start telling the truth.”