A wheelchair

In movies we see in France from the US people are always in wheelchairs when they go from the hospital to thei car.

I know it is for insurance reason and more. but in movies people are often surrounded by loving members of their family and friends.

The first time I went to my therapist when I went back home I was crying out of pain cause I don’t like to open up to a stranger about everything about my life. I used to do it when I was younger until someone called me a pathological liar. Anyway I don’t like to talk about myself in real life to real people until someone says something very stupid and I can’t hold it anymore. Then I make allusion with much bitterness. Fortunately I can hold it back most of the time.
Anyway I was crying.
At the train station to take me back home a woman saw me sobbing and from a distance offered me a tissue.
So far nothing seems exceptional  because sometimes strangers can be nice. We have all been this nice stranger at least once in our life. It is not the fact that she offered it it is the way she did it. And she did it the only way I could not feel aggressed and the only way I could refuse it because the way she did it just eased my tears.
Pretty nice isn’t it?

Well let me tell you what happened a week ago.

The church is paying for the therapist and I said that I would pay for the transportation to get there. So of course I look for cheaper ways to travel those 60km. I found a carpooling site which enables me to not only save big money but also to meet new people and discuss and travel in a more comfortable situation and everything you may think of that is nicer about car polling as opposed to taking a train.
So I went there car pooling and I had planed to go back the same way.
Long story short I missed my drive back home. I have never missed an appointment in my life and I am going to be 36.

I walked back downtown to get to a train station feeling both troubled about the money and what God wanted out of this since I had prayed hard that one way or another. Paid big bucks for a train ticket and fortunately there was a train leaving a few minutes later.
I got on and looked for an empty sit. I passed by several but I never felt like choosing these, I needed a spot where I would feel comfortable both physically and emotionnaly. I eventually found one and I sat.

After a few minutes I realized that one of the woman sitting in front of me across the aisle was reading the very book my therapist had asked me to read. I was chocked. I went to her and we started talking and this I how I came to want to read the book because until I talked to her I both wanted to read it and was looking for a way to avoid to do it. One of the thing she told me struck me really hard as she quoted the book and it felt as she quoted something from my life.

No Barnum effect here because nobody in his/her right mind would like to identify to what the book talks about as she explains our difficulties and the problems coming from it much more than why we should be superior. Fair enough because we are not and if anyone feels, after having passed the catchy title, that being over gifted is about superiority then this person either needs to go back to school to learn better how to read or is in bad need for a therapist too. It could even be too late.

What I am trying to get at here is how I feel taken care of when I come back from my therapist. The first time could be seen as only a nice encounter but the second time can’t be denied as God sending cares on my way back home and eventually, after reading the book, I know that the first time was also Him.

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