The Invisible Black Woman

Some things are timeless: a hot cup of coffee on a cold morning, an unexpected smile from a stranger, or a debate over the legitimacy of pineapple as a pizza topping. Yes, pineapple—the tropical fruit that sparks joy for some and visceral rage for others. If you’re rolling your eyes, wondering how something so trivial could divide a room.

It started innocently enough. Nathan kicked off the session with an icebreaker: “What’s your favorite pizza topping?” A simple question, but those of us who’ve been in therapy long enough knew better. Nathan doesn’t do simple questions.

“Barbecue chicken pizza with pineapples and jalapeños,” I said, without hesitation. I braced myself for the inevitable. Sure enough, the room was split. Pineapple defenders nodded in solidarity while the anti-pineapple faction unleashed groans and side-eyes. The neutrals, bless them, just sat back and watched the fireworks.

This wasn’t about pizza. It never is. Nathan smiled, clearly pleased with the reactions.

“Okay,” he said, holding up a marker. “Why do you think I asked that question?”

At first, the responses were playful. Someone joked, “To cause chaos!” Another said, “To see who the real monsters are.” But Nathan wasn’t letting us off that easy.

“What if I told you that pineapple on pizza is a stand-in for our triggers? Something small, seemingly inconsequential, that can spiral into a full-blown argument or ruin your whole day?”

The room grew quieter. We’d all been there: letting something small snowball into something big, whether it was a passive-aggressive comment, an unmet expectation, or a pineapple pizza.

Nathan pressed on: “Why do some triggers hit harder than others? Why do certain things feel so personal?”

That’s when it clicked. Triggers aren’t about the “thing” itself—they’re about what the thing represents. For some, pineapple on pizza was just a preference. For others, it symbolized deeper issues: feeling unheard, dismissed, or judged. Suddenly, the debate wasn’t so trivial anymore.

We spent the next portion of the session dissecting our triggers. Nathan handed out worksheets that broke down categories like people, places, and situations. Triggers could be obvious—like traffic, dirty dishes, or a bully at work—or subtle, like the tone of someone’s voice or the way they phrased a sentence.

One group member shared how traffic made them feel powerless, stuck in a situation they couldn’t control. Another talked about how a messy house triggered feelings of failure.

Nathan summed it up perfectly: “Triggers are less about what’s happening and more about what it means to you.”

From there, we dove into anger—how it manifests, what fuels it, and how it can sometimes take over before we even realize what’s happening. Nathan asked, “How do you know when you’re angry?”

The answers came fast:

“My shoulders tense up.”

“I clench my jaw.”

“My heart races.”

“I feel hot all over.”

Nathan nodded. “Exactly. Anger isn’t just in your head, it’s in your body. So, if you want to manage it, you have to address both.”

Cue the introduction of coping mechanisms. Nathan walked us through deep breathing exercises to slow our heart rates, grounding techniques to bring us back to the present, and even the infamous 5-4-3-2-1 method.

“Name five things you can see,” he said, pointing around the room.

“The door. A water bottle. A couch.”

“Four things you can touch?”

Someone touched the table, another their worksheet. I tapped my pen on my notepad, feeling silly but also… calmer.

Nathan explained that one of the best ways to break out of anger or anxiety is to shift your focus. “When you’re spiraling, it’s hard to think clearly. Distracting yourself gives your brain a break.”

He shared an example from Big Mouth, where a character uses a “logic rock” to ground themselves. We laughed at the absurdity, but the principle was sound. Whether it’s counting objects, describing textures, or imagining the taste of a table (don’t ask), distraction works.

By the time we finished the exercise, the mood in the room had lifted. The earlier tension from the pineapple pizza debate was gone, replaced by laughter and a sense of lightness.

Then came the metaphor that stuck with me the most: therapy as a marathon.

Nathan asked, “How many of you have ever run a marathon?” Not a single hand went up.

“Okay, then think of therapy like one,” he said. “It’s not about sprinting to the finish line. It’s about pacing yourself, taking it one step at a time, and celebrating the milestones along the way.”

He explained that just like in a marathon, we can only see so far ahead, maybe the first 20% of the race. The rest is out of view, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there.

This resonated deeply with me. So often, I want to “fix” everything immediately. I get frustrated when progress feels slow or when setbacks happen. But Nathan reminded us that the journey is just as important as the destination.

“You may not believe the affirmations you’re telling yourself now,” he said. “But keep saying them. Keep showing up. Eventually, you’ll see the finish line.”

One group member shared a story about stepping away from a heated argument to take a drive. “I knew if I stayed, I’d say something I’d regret,” they said.

Nathan praised them for using what he called “radical acceptance.” “Sometimes the best thing you can do is walk away,” he said. “Not to avoid the issue, but to give yourself space to process and return with a clearer head.”

This hit home for me. I’ve often stayed in situations too long, trying to force resolutions that weren’t ready to happen. Learning to step back—without guilt—is something I’m still working on.

As the session wound down, Nathan brought up the importance of language.

“The way we talk about things shapes the way we feel about them,” he said. “For example, saying ‘I survived a tough day’ feels different than saying ‘I had a crappy day.’ Both are true, but one empowers you while the other weighs you down.”

He encouraged us to reframe our narratives, to focus on the progress we’ve made rather than the obstacles in our way.

By the end of the session, I couldn’t help but reflect on my own triggers and coping mechanisms. Pineapple pizza may have started the conversation, but it led to so much more.

So, whether you love pineapple on pizza or think it’s an abomination, remember this: the toppings aren’t the problem. It’s how we choose to react to what’s on our plate.

Until next time, I wish you nothing but sunshine, rainbows, and unicorns, which are no less fictitious than the amazing you are.