Sunday Prayers With Babe Walker

‘Busy’ doesn’t begin to describe the hellish Saturday I had yesterday. Luckily, an emergency session with my therapist saved my life. I was running around west Los Angeles in search of a last minute birthday gift for my shaman, Steve, and NOTHING was working for me. Some days I believe in God more than other days because I can feel the hate oozing from the universe.

Nothing I was finding was suitable or worthy of Steve. Whether it be the chair made out of repurposed beach trash, the new Rick Owens boots, or the sugar glider family I almost adopted for me, but in his name, no gift was sending the message I wanted to send my dear shaman. I got to wondering…what message am I trying to send Steve? What does my shaman’s birthday really mean to me? Was my indecision a projection of a deep spirit, trying to escape, trying to be heard? What did the gift say about me? Why did I care?

I knew I was going to have to answer these questions before moving on with the search, so I found Susan in her office in Santa Monica. She was with another patient who seemed to be crying about some sort of dead husband thing and also seemed to be wearing Ugg slippers. I politely asked Susan to come take a quick drive with me up the coast and told her it was an emergency. When she grabbed my arm and escorted me into the waiting room, I thought she was for sure going to scream at me for walking into someone else’s session for the 24th time this year. She didn’t scream, she didn’t even give me a chance to explain the fact that Steve’s birthday bonfire was in 45 minutes and I had nothing to offer. No, she very softly and quietly said: “Babe, every time you come running to me for help, you tell yourself that you aren’t strong enough to figure it out. Now go figure it out, I’m with a client.”

After the initial sensation of being slapped in the face, my nerves relaxed and I realized that she was absolutely right. I wasn’t allowing myself to save myself. I was strong enough to find the perfect birthday present all on my own and I needed to trust that. I vowed that from now on, I will be asking for help less, and I pray that the pain and confusion that I suffered yesterday will be a lesson to you psychos as well. We can do it.

Oh, I got Steve a motorcycle. He hated it.

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