"Exactly! You just clarified I'm broken," I say as I laugh and wave my hands, gesturing toward myself. I'm trying to make light of it as I prove my point.
She adjusts in her chair, throwing a soft grin my way as if it's a pity grin. She takes a deep breath.
"You have had every reason to let those events and hurdles break you, but you didn't. Youtry. You may not always succeed, but'trying' is the biggest battle, and you have never quit. If that isn't strength, I'm not quite sure what is. It would help if you accepted that not being okay is also okay. You aren't always expected to put on a brave face and pretend that your life is anything more than what it is." She purses her lips together, and they curl up at the ends, knowing she's proved her point.
I sit there, soaking in her words. How does she see strength? I'm not sure if I'm confused, frustrated, or enlightened. I sigh, letting my head fall to the back of the uncomfortable sofa in her office.
I like it here. The sound machine is soothing, albeit sometimes overpowering at the same time, and it always smells nice. Dr. Carr alone makes it an environment that's easy to unwind in.
We sat there in silence for a while. I like that she never rushes me to respond. She allows me time to process what she says, what I feel, and just in general. There are not a lot of people who do that nowadays. People are always in such a rush that everything has to be equivalent to light speed: reactions, responses, and overall conversations. Although I don't always like opening up, I appreciate that it's at whatever pace I need.
"Maybe you're onto something. Maybe! It's just that if this is considered strength, maybe I'm tired of being strong. Maybe I want to be weak for once? I don't know," I say as I look away. I notice the clock, and I point towards it. "It's about time. Can that be all for today?"
Dr. Carr takes a deep breath and chuckles softly as she shakes her head. It's her job to get deep- To get right down to the nitty-gritty and hash it all out. To figure out my damages and help me to repair the broken pieces. It isn't my intention to make thingsdifficult or to be complicated. I'm not sure which is accurate at this point, but I am confident my persistent avoidance of the context getting too deep annoys her at this point. She's human. I'd be annoyed with me also if I were her.
I don't blame her for the look of frustration that she's very gracefully trying to cover up as she presses on.
"We still have twenty minutes remaining. Would you be okay with talking a little bit longer but changing the subject?"
"Yes, we can attempt that," I sigh, flashing a soft half-smile and letting out an awkward chuckle, attempting to keep the mood light.
She returns my smile and continues.
"A few weeks ago, you mentioned your dating life, but at the time, we weren't ready to touch much on that. Can we do that now?"
This is her idea of changing the subject.GREAT!
"I mean, there isn't much to discuss. I don't have a dating life," I continue, trying not to laugh. It isn't funny, but it's my coping mechanism to hide my utter embarrassment. "I'm not interested in having one. It's terrible to admit, but I have hooked up with random guys on drunken nights, but that's about the extent of my interest."
She doesn't skip a beat before she starts, "Why do you think it is that you feel more comfortable sharing the most intimate parts of yourself with someone, but you don't feel comfortable letting someone in emotionally?"
Did my therapist just call me out on my bullshit?
I can feel my pulse picking up speed, and the red flush in my cheeks must be the same color as the red of hot sauce because I can feel the sting blazing as it coats my face.
Her question is valid, and I try to remind myself of that. It still doesn't stop the tears that threaten to swell up in my eyes at the reality of her words.
Why can I share my body but not my heart and mind?
For a while, I didn't even do that. For years, to be exact. In more recent years, sex has become a release. For me, it's just a way to relieve stress and is not at all about emotional attachments.
I promised myself not to get involved with people I know. So, the guys I have slept with are random drunken one-night stands. It doesn't happen often.
"If I keep the expectations low and the connection strictly physical, there's less likely a chance of me getting hurt. I'm simply getting exactly what I need out of the situation. It works for me."
"Does it truly work, though? Or is it another way to attempt to forget about Ander? You've talked previously about feeling lonely. I could imagine this only making that feeling more valid."
Ander.
Just hearing his name causes my heart to flutter in my chest.
I scoff and try to hide my embarrassment once again. This feeling of being exposed and picked apart isn't easy. I know my decisions haven't always been excellent.
She interrupts my thoughts just then, "I just hate to see you building your walls so high that no one will ever be able to climb over them to get to the other side and truly see you. People deserve to experience you, and you deserve-"
"No one deserves to be burdened with the unhealed parts of me that even I wish I could escape." My head hangs a little lower with that admittance.
"That's the thing, Via. None of us are fully healed and completely whole. We are all damaged in our own ways. Some more than others. Believe it or not, it's easier to repair those damages when we feel connections and give ourselves a purpose to restore for."
