A new category of torture for the CIA: psychotherapy with my stupid sister Viva.

Must we really do this?

Must we really do this?

All of Tak’s efforts at bringing closer together¬† Viva “call me VFer” (don’t ask) and yours truly are beginning to feel like a lesson in futility (from this point known as an “LFu” — much easier for VFer to pronounce).

This week started with another little exercise, this one: Role Reversal. We had to pretend we were each other and say what we like — and then, dislike — about one another. Then (still as the other person), what we like/disliked about ourselves. As you can imagine, it took hours just to explain this to VFer in terms she could actually grasp. Poor darling was tired after partying with the cast of “Gossip Girl” (?) the night before.

We breezed right through the “like” portion in no time. The dislike: let’s just say Tak was more than happy to share with us that stash of “happy pills” he seems to keep at-the-ready whenever we have an appointment.

Next was what Tak felt was a vital task: That we form a bond of touch. Yes, seriously. We assured him a hug was out of the question, so for now we played “hands”. just palm-to-palm. Like you see in films when family visits family in prison — only they’re fortunate enough to have a panel of glass between them (which is what I suggested).

We got through it. But for the first time in my life, I can honestly say I’m afraid. Afraid of what our next session holds in store…

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