Stutley Tales

I was cleaning out my wardrobe a couple of months ago, and came across this handbag tucked away out of sight. Let me tell you about one of my counselling sessions…

‘We have some spare time,’ he said glancing at the clock. ‘Is there anything you’d like to talk about?’

‘Well, actually, there is,’ I said hesitantly. ‘It’s my handbag…’

He wasn’t quite quick enough to hide his surprise. ‘Your handbag… What about your handbag?’

‘Well,’ I paused, not sure if this was a good idea. ‘It’s just that I haven’t been able to use it since the attack.’ I hurried on. ‘I don’t get it… It wasn’t part of the incident… it was just on the floor of the car. He didn’t even know it was there. But I just can’t use it any more.’

‘What do you use?’

‘This…’ I held up a minuscule little black handbag that was just big enough to carry my phone and a thin wallet. ‘And sometimes I just put my phone and wallet in my pockets.’

‘Why?’ he asked.

I launched into all the reasons I could think of for carrying less. Less to replace if it was stolen, less temptation to would-be thieves… We discussed how much I used to carry, including credit cards and cash. I explained that I now only carried one card and no more than $50 cash – in case it got stolen.

‘I want you to start using your handbag again,’ he said.

I was stunned. That was not what I expected to hear. He was wrong. It was just a handbag. Throw it out and buy a new one – problem solved. ’You think I should use it again?’ I asked dumbly.

He nodded, and stood to retrieve his appointment book. That was it…?

I shook my head as I unlocked the car and slid behind the wheel. ‘He has no idea what he’s talking about!’ I muttered angrily. I reversed out the driveway and headed home, feeling angrier by the minute. ‘He’s a MAN! What does HE know about women and their handbags? Nothing!’

I knew why he wanted me start using it – we’d been over the reasons and steps many times as I worked through my fear of the police, shopping, sitting in the car alone etc. But this time, no… it was just an insignificant handbag and he was way off the mark! I hadn’t intended to bring up the issue in the first place, now I wished I’d kept my mouth firmly shut.

‘It’s just a handbag!’ I muttered angrily as I drove. ‘Women buy new handbags all the time. I’ll just buy a new one. I’ll show him! He’s a MAN – he’d never understand what it meant to buy a new handbag! ‘

Decision made, I stopped via my local shopping centre and marched into the bag shop. After a long selection process, I chose a brownish red leather handbag. Perfect. There was room for my phone, sunglasses, a larger wallet, some tissues, lip gloss, etc.

Back home, I placed my new handbag on the ledge beside the old one, intending to transfer what I wanted to carry, find a home for everything else, and ditch ‘old faithful’.

Next morning, I was a mess. My father was close to dying and I felt this compelling urge to go see him. My son just happened to call me from work that morning and I burst into tears. He offered to drive me the three hours north, and I accepted. He said to give him two hours, to get home, change, fill his car and come and get me.

During this two hours, I quickly set about preparing for the long day trip. It had just started to rain, so I grabbed my pop-up umbrella, a bigger purse that would hold more money, and other things I would normally pack into my handbag. I started trying to fit it into the new one and it was soon obvious that it wasn’t all going to fit. And sitting there right beside my nice shiny new handbag was the old one. I looked at it. There was nothing wrong with it. In my mind, I could hear Dr Lee saying, ‘I want you to start using your handbag again.’

I picked it up and looked at it. It was just a handbag! And I didn’t have a choice if I wanted to take all this ‘stuff’. I took it into the kitchen, emptied all the pockets, took it outside and shook the remaining bits out. Back inside, I started loading it.

That handbag was never a problem again. Eight years on, I never have used the new handbag, but I can’t bear to part with it. In some strange way, it is special. I wonder about using it, and  I often look at it and think, ‘Not yet… One day, but not just yet.’ It’s like waiting for everything to come full circle. Maybe when everything has been dealt with, there’ll be a prize waiting for me. I have a feeling that day is not too far away, so I’ve left the bag out where I can see it :)

DJ

(C) DJ Stutley 2012