“Well . . .” I started and then stopped. Everything was very broad and nebulous. Like casting a tiny net into a massive ocean, hoping to catch something. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Let’s start smaller. What do you like about yourself?” She ripped some more plants out of the soil and placed them on the grass.

“What do I what?”

“Like about yourself,” she repeated.

“I—I . . .” I stopped dead. What did I like about myself? For some reason this question absolutely floored me. No one had ever asked me this before, and I’d never stopped to think about it either. The question repeated in my brain, confusing me more by the second. “I don’t know,” I finally managed. I could instantly see this was the wrong answer. I could see that in the way Dr. Stride was tutting out loud and shaking her own head, just in case I still needed it confirmed.

“Well, that’s not good enough,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“Right, homework for next session—” she started.

“Homework?”

“Write a list of things you like about yourself.”

My insides wrapped themselves into a tight ball. I was starting to feel very uncomfortable with this conversation.

“Or draw them, if that makes you feel more comfortable,” she added quickly.

“Okay,” I said slowly and thoughtfully. “I’ll try.”

And then she gave me the most dazzling smile I’d ever seen. “Right, these echeverias have remained comfortable for too long, let’s pull them out.”

“Echa what?” I asked.

“They’re called echeverias. Don’t you just love that word. E-che-ve-riaaaa. Rolls off your tongue, ne?”

Despite what I was feeling, I couldn’t help but laugh at this. Dr. Stride was unlike any therapist I’d ever been to before, and I didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. But I knew it was something.

13

Things I Like about Myself by Lori Palmer

I stared down at the writing in my notebook and tapped the page with my pen. Things I liked about myself. Why was this so hard? Why did it feel like I couldn’t think of one bloody thing to say? I closed my book and looked out over the ocean.