The journey to her couch took six weeks of suffering before I arrived. I claimed one corner and pulled my knees to my chest, effectively shrinking myself to a pathetic dot. I assumed that if the world intended to swallow me, I’d go down easier that way. I held my feet for comfort, then glanced at my savior with total desperation—I wanted her to save me.
Wikipedia describes your stereotypical Type A personality as “ambitious, rigidly organized, highly status-conscious, sensitive, impatient, takes on more than they can handle, wants other people to get to the point, anxious, proactive, and concerned with time management.” With the glaring exception of ‘anxious,’ I am guilty of nearly all those traits.