Introduction

Lisa: I try and I try, but I just can’t do it. Don’t even know where to start.

White Rabbit: Why not start at the beginning?

Lisa: Which beginning? There are so many.

White Rabbit: Right.

Lisa: I’m tired.

Silence.

Lisa: You know what I like about you?

White Rabbit: What?

 Lisa: That I never feel rushed with you. Like I did with the other psychiatrists that I had, back in the day. Isn’t that funny? Especially, since you’re the one always walking around with that pocket watch everywhere you go, always looking at the time! And still. Time seems to stop whenever I come see you. Isn’t that strange? There’s something different about you.

White Rabbit: What’s that?

Lisa: I don’t know. Just everything. Take your ears for example, they’re so long and white…

White Rabbit: Do they bother you?

Lisa: No. I like your ears. They seem attentive. At least I know that you’re actually listening.

White Rabbit: Is that unusual for you? To have someone listen to you?

Lisa: I don’t think I would be here if it was otherwise.

White Rabbit: Telling your story would be an excellent way to get someone to listen to you, don’t you think?

Lisa: IF I could write it. I’m telling you! I’ve been trying forever. I’ll probably never finish. I’ll probably be buried with my laptop on top of my chest!

White Rabbit: Okay. Wanna give up?

Lisa: Can’t. That’s the problem. The thing keeps hanging over my head like a death sentence. What choice do I have but to keep on hitting my head against that eternal brick wall? I can’t go left and I can’t go right without it constantly nagging in my ear, all the time, all day long; “Tell the story, tell the story.” Can’t live my life. Can’t do anything anymore.

White Rabbit: So then just write it. Just do it.

Lisa: But where do I start? I don’t know! The memories are all jumbled up in my mind now, and as soon as I try to write about them my mind freezes! Completely! Besides! I don’t even have words anymore! Because of this mental stutter! Because of the stupid trauma! I’m all confused now, I go away, escape, mentally, I fall asleep, in the middle of a sentence, just like that, lost in my own private universe…and then the thread of thought is lost…It’s a mess. I’m a mess.

White Rabbit: So let it be a mess. Stop trying to make it anything else. Let it be bad if it needs to be. Sometimes telling a story is all about learning how to be.

Lisa: I’ll say. That’s all I’ve done for the past twenty years. Tried to learn how to BE!

White Rabbit: Telling a story also has a lot to do with trust. You need to let go of your resistance and learn how to surrender. Take a risk. Fall backwards through the air.

Lisa: Backwards into what?!

White Rabbit: Into yourself. I suppose you could say that telling a story is a bit like falling into a rabbit hole.