I curled up in my earlier position on the couch, shifting around to rearrange the cushion underneath me. Bouncing my butt, patting and fluffing the plush pillow, and wriggling my toes, I felt like a dog turning around in circles before it gets comfortable enough to lie down. Finally, I was comfortable and glanced back to the doctor. He was sitting there with a bemused grin on his face watching my little ritual.
“I know, I know. I’m like a dog. I just like to be comfortable!” Somehow I was embarrassed by my little scene and felt the need to explain it away. There was something uniquely private about such a ceremony of comfort. It’s so very similar to the way I tuck myself in at night. First, I always begin by refluffing my pillow. No matter how nice my pillow is, each morning it looks like a dump truck ran over it. There’s a very specific process to fluffing a pillow. You put a hand at each end and push inwards a few times to redistribute the shapeless mass of fibers inside. Then, you grab handfuls of the material and pull them outwards turning the pillow into a candy-drop shaped lump. This provides for one more night of decent sleep. If it is really cold I dive under the covers and move around quickly, flailing my arms and legs to get my heart pumping. Thirty seconds later I freeze and my body heat quickly heats up the pocket of air around my body. I’ve been married for over a year, and have yet to do this in front of my husband… so you see how embarrassed I was by displaying a similar ritual in front of the therapist.