Valhalla High (A Magnus Chase Fanfic)

GoInG to ThErAPy is FuN KiDs

January 18

      We had settled into a therapy routine. My father picked me up from school every Monday and would take me to therapy. Then, I'd have dinner over at his place and he'd drop me off back home. Sometimes, we cooked together. Other times, we'd go out to eat. There was an ice cream place ten minutes away from my father's house that had all the usual flavors and more: London Fog, Garbage Bin, Peanut Butter Cookies and Cream, Banana Taffy, Matcha Peach, etc. They offered spoon-sized samples and we had fun trying all them out.

      I was always tired when I got home on Monday and I sometimes had homework I would finish the next morning in the car. I wasn't really sure how helpful therapy was at this point, since we mainly talked about what cool things Alex did the previous week and my many witty remarks. Idun had tried to teach me coping skills, but I'd shot them down one after the other. "I'm an atheist," I'd said, "so I'm not going to pray. I don't like meditation — it puts me to sleep — and I certainly do not want to take up a new hobby. Watching Dr. Who and crafting perfectly sarcastic remarks is good enough for me."

     Idun had just sighed. I wondered if she considered me her hardest patient. Should I be proud of that? One day, I'd looked up "How does my therapist deal with me?" on Google and found out that many therapists actually went to therapy. "Wow," I'd said out loud. "Well, I know who she is probably talking about."

      There was just one problem: if therapists saw therapists then who did those therapists see? Other therapists? My mind whirled as I thought of a never-ending line of therapists. It was too much to think about, so I had clicked out of my tabs and returned to doing homework.

    Today, we were a little later than usual to my appointment, but still on time. Idun still offered me an apple every time, but she also had a cabinet of snacks and some of them were packaged, so unless she did some weird magic, I was sure they were safe. Besides, safe or not, who can say no to free gummy worms?

      We began our session with the usual question. "How was your week?" Idun asked.

      I shrugged. "Same as last week. I went to school, went home, and slept. Alex showed us he can fit a cafeteria tray in his mouth."

     Idun's eyes widened. "The tray was sideways," I clarified, "so we could all do it."

    Idun then handed me a pack of gummy worms and I thanked her as I took it. "I think," Idun said, "we need to start coming up with goals. What do you want out of therapy?"

      I nearly choked on my first gummy worm. "Uhh — better mental health?" I responded.

      "But what does that mean to you?" Idun pressed.

     Oh great, from her intense gaze I was guessing this session wouldn't be as chill as the last two. I guess that's what comes out going to therapy. I silently cursed my insurance company for covering this place and tried to formulate a response. "It means being able to do stuff," I said, "without always having this fear that everyone is going to hurt me. I guess — having a dad who wasn't in my life and kids who bullied me. . ."

I trailed off. Something in my chest was squeezing; I think it was my heart. "I just have always wanted to belong," I confessed, "and for so long I've been told that I cannot belong that I expect people to treat me badly."

I gave a half-smile. "I remember the first day of school this year. I was so surprised by how nice some of the people were and there have been some instances this year, but I have actual friends for the first time since elementary school."

I took a shuddering breath. "I love them, but sometimes I feel unworthy of their friendship."

"Do you think that could be because of your past trauma?" Idun asked.

"Trauma?" I repeated.

      "Have you ever heard of the Adverse Childhood Experiences Study?" Idun asked me.

    I shook my head. "The Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE) study was originally conducted by Kaiser," Idun said. "It was a longitudinal study that found correlations between adverse childhood experiences and health problems later in life. Their sample was made up of mostly white, middle-class families with health insurance and yet they found that the majority of people experienced at least one trauma in their childhood. Those who experienced multiple traumatic events were more likely to have problems later on in life."

     "So you're saying I'm doomed because of a bad childhood?" I asked.

    Idun shook her head. "Correlation does not equal causation. Trauma does not need to hurt forever. There are many ways to heal from it — one way is therapy."

     "Then that's what I want to do," I decided. "I want to heal from my trauma."

    "We can work towards that," Idun said, "but it won't be easy. We're going to have to explore things — uncomfortable memories and schemas. We're going to have to challenge thoughts. You're going to have to put a lot of work in — including work outside of our sessions. Are you willing to do that?"

     Was I? Wouldn't it be easier to walk out and quit? I didn't want to remember. I didn't want to think about the taunts said and punches thrown. I didn't want to venture into parts of my mind that were off-bound for a reason. I didn't want to change my entire way of thinking. When had it ever let me down? I didn't want to hurt just to feel better.

     I closed my eyes. I remembered how Alex had once asked me how I'd best taking blood or giving patients shots when it hurt them. "It will then, yes, but it will protect them in the long run," I had replied.

    Maybe therapy was like getting a vaccine. Nobody liked getting jabbed in the arm, but no one wanted to get measles either. I opened my eyes and nodded. "Yes," I said, my voice hoarse. "I'm ready."