Relief

“So, Aleah, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself, what you do for fun, if you’re working, anything that you think is interesting about yourself.”

I was sitting in a therapist’s office.  Along with the mass amounts of some of my favorite snack foods Aaron had brought over for our “Superbowl Party” to cajole me to eat, he had brought the name and number of a therapist that he had heard good things about who worked with victims of some type of sexual battery and/or rape.

When I had cried all my tears and finished snotting all over Aaron’s chest, he had gently broached the subject of therapy.  Of course, hindsight was that he brought it up while making it my idea.  “Aleah, what do you think we can do in order to help you start moving forward?”

“I don’t know.  I feel really helpless and just constantly vulnerable and on the verge of a meltdown.”

“Have you told anyone that?”

“Yeah, you.  Just now.”

He raised an eyebrow at my natural defense of sarcasm, but plowed on with the conversation.  “I mean, anyone else.”

I shook my head, nervously.  I didn’t like admitting my weaknesses. 

“Do you think if you kept talking a little, it might help?”

I shrugged my shoulders, but thought about what he said.  Although I didn’t like admitting how I was feeling to him, I felt relief in opening up to him.  I felt like maybe he could partially understand.  He waited for me, appearing to sense that I was thinking.  “Maybe.”

“If you’re stressed about something, like school work, what do you do to help alleviate it?”

I thought back to when life was normal.  “I procrastinated.  Or played games on my phone.”

“Okay, what about something a little more serious and emotional.  Like, do you have any conflict about seeing Chase and me?”

I squinted my eyes, confused.  Then it clicked, I had never told him I wasn’t seeing Chase any longer.  I was planning on telling him over Christmas break, but then...

“I did.  And when I did, I talked with my friends.”

I saw the confusion flash across his face, but he proceeded on.  “Were they able to give you good advice, or walk you through it?”

“Yeah.  They did.  It helped me process more than anything, I think...” and then I realized what he was getting at.

I think he saw the realization in my expression, because he didn’t say anything else about it.  He just took the card out of his wallet and handed it to me.  I nodded and set it on the coffee table, knowing I would call, even though I didn’t want to.

He then brought out the pizza rolls, taquitos, wings, and black olives.  And Coca Cola.  How he knew I love all of those things as guilty pleasure foods, I’ll never know, but it made me feel even more drawn to him.

We finished watching the game, and I even smiled a few times.  It felt... good.

I refocused on my therapist, Dean, and started to tell him about myself, building rapport.  He was a soft spoken, gentle soul of an older man.  If I was going to do this, I was going to do it right, and honestly. 

I wanted to get better.