To Tolerate the Temperature of Happiness

A few years back I worked as the program manager for the doctorate program of an acupuncture college. My boss, the director of the program, made it a point to constantly compliment my work, particularly in front of others. Look at this wonderful handout Marianne made, he’d say, waving the paper around. It’s just a handout, I’d mutter, feeling like I was ten years old, getting praised for coloring within the lines. I felt patronized and doubted his sincerity. I couldn’t stand the attention. When I went on a cruise with my ex-fiance’s family, their constant solicitous concern for my sea queasiness made me crazy. My therapist found it amusing that while I’d been craving more attention my entire life, I had such a difficult time accepting it. Apparently the feelings, although generally pleasant, made me uncomfortable because they were unfamiliar.