How it started

Chapter 4

My perception on love comes from my parents.
Their perception on love comes from their parents.
And so it begins to feel like a never ending perception of poorly written love that gets passed down from generation to generation.
—
KAMARI
—

I used to secretly go to therapy at the age of 15.

Each of the therapist I had had given me each one of the 4 coping mechanisms that have stuck to me to this day.

1. journaling

I used to journal a lot, record how bad my days were and instead of angering myself and self harming my therapist had told me to write my negative thoughts into a piece of paper and once I was done, rip it up into tiny shreds letting the negative thought go along with it. I never understood why I stopped, it just happened, overtime It just did and I had no explanation as to why.

2. "Breathe in the lilies and blow away the candles."

I think she made it up on the spot, she was pregnant and it was a hot summer. I remember this therapist because she would give me scented stickers my favorite one was either the blueberry one or the strawberry ones she would give me. She reminded me of a lily, a white one, she was very pure and very mature which shocked me because of how much people she must have dealt with that had pent up trauma like mine. How can someone stay so pure knowing just how horrific the world can truly be?

3. Holding in my breath for 5 seconds then releasing it while counting up to 8.

My hands would always go numb while I had panic attacks, I tended to look at them until my vision would go blurry and they'd start to look more purple to me then skin like color. This therapist had told me one of her favorite flowers was a Hibiscus, which was a type of Hawaiian vibrant flower. She reminded me a lot of it, very bright and very potent. She had taught me the mechanism mid panic attack once and for some odd reason it stuck to me.

4. Coloring book

Each Therapist I would have would tell me that my inner child had been traumatized. Instead of telling me straight forward this therapist had handed me a box of crayons and a coloring sheet. She told me to sit down and just color, I sat there staring at the sunflower coloring page for a good 5 minutes until she had stood up and sat next to me. She had taken out a box of crayons for herself and a coloring sheet of an aster flower and had placed it on the table for herself, we would color a different flower page each session.

Therapy had its downfalls it was like physical therapy to me, my mind was always working to heal a part of me that had been tattered for a while.

In other words it was really straining.

How was I supposed to heal if I was still in the same environment that caused the same trauma over and over again?

I couldn't.

—

I turn around and lift myself up along with alora, cradling her in my arms as she closes her eyes and cuddles into them.

I look down at her and smile softly petting her head softly then rubbing her nose making her scrunch it.

I look back up at noir noticing him already looking at me, my face morfing back into a blank face as I clear my throat.

"Noir."

"Is this alora?" He says making me still, she was just a baby when he was still around.

I nod my head keeping my emotions tucked in before they rise at bay and wrap themselves around the conscious part of my brain.

"I always knew she was gonna grow into a beautiful cat." He looks down at her lovingly.

"She did." I look down at the calm cat purring softly in my arms.

"Does she live with you now? Roger and Michelle let you keep her?" I stiffen at the names and tighten my hood on Alora leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead calming both herself and I in the process.

"No, she roams around and then I keep her in my room at night till morning." I say not looking up at him, instead looking down at Alora.

"You could leave her at my house so nothing bad happens to her. We could make her a little space where she could be safe." He suggests softly then steps closer to us.

I look down at Alora and set aside our situation for her safety and for her well being.

She needs to be safe and healthy at all times.

I sigh and look up at him, his eyes showing the smallest amount of hope, "fine, but only for her sake, she needs to be safe and I can't be that for her. My home-" I cringe mentally at the false name "Isn't that for her."

He nods and looks down at me and then lifts his hands towards Alora motioning if he could pet her. I nod and he comes closer softly running his thumb on top of her head. He opens her eyes looking up at him and lets him pet her.

She remembers him.

He steps away and takes my bag with him as we walk to his house.

He lives next door to me, just like he used to.

None of our houses were homey, his was flashy and mine was tattered and dead.

It saddens me how we both were fit and named  unworthy enough for a family to love us. I knew of the family he came from, I came quite often to his house to escape mine.

We both had came from vile families in search of comfort in anyone who would lend it, we were starving for an ounce of love and care.

It makes me wanna forgive him so bad before I remember the stabbing words he had told me before he had left without a trace.

2 idiotic kids in search for the least bit of love in anyone who would lend it, pathetic is what we were called on the daily. 'I hate you' became the new 'i love you' for us.

2 tattered souls aching for validation in this world.

2 kids searching for a person who would tell us we mattered when everyone in our lives screamed we didn't.

2 foul loved children in search for someone to teach them how to love when no one ever showed them.

We never learned how to love vile people, we caved and ran each time.

Scared for what was going to happen when they found out we didn't know how to love them.

How to love each other.

How to love one another.