It’s been three months since my accident. I’m still walking in a boot, but at least I’m walking. I go in to see my doctor on Monday and oh the dread… Not because of the foot. Not because I know he is going to say two more weeks in the boot, but because I am experiencing a bad case of transference towards him. I know that’s all it is. I know it’s because he was the one to take care of me during a crisis, and I have been utterly dependent on him for a while now, but the logic does not make it go away. I actually met with my therapist to ask her about it and she advised the following.

“Don’t try and avoid it, that will just make it worse. Acknowledge it. Accept it. Don’t repress it. Don’t move away from it. Don’t quit going to him. Don’t avoid driving down the street where you know he lives. Just accept it and it will fade.”

In other words, don’t try and hold the beach ball underwater.

The thing is, it’s hard to feel it fade when he blurs the boundaries, and oh do I want him to continue to do that, but how is that helping me? He’s married. Has kids. I may be a temptation to him but that’s all I am. In the meantime, I have his cell phone number, he’s come to my office for an office visit and not charged me for it, he allows me to text him and he texts me back, and most pointedly, that last visit we had… the tension in the room was like a thick fog. Every move one of us made the other mirrored. Every expression. There were long drawn out pauses where neither of us spoke, yet the visit went on to a full 40 minutes. I actually felt nervous and had a hard time holding his gaze.

So now the question. What do I do on Monday? The way I see it, I have three options. 1) Ignore the entire thing and remain completely neutral (oh yeah right. That has been working so well!) 2) Openly flirt and see what happens (a good way continue the agony) 3) Have a conversation with him and tell him directly what’s going on.

Unfortunately the last one, no matter how uncomfortable it may be, will probably yield the best results. For me, not for him. I wish I knew what to do. I mean I wish I knew what I was going to do. I’d like to talk openly about it, but I truly believe that I’ll be too nervous. I bet I don’t say anything at all. Option 1. No flirting, but no talking about it either. In other words, keep holding the beach ball underwater.