The adventures of daisy

The therapist and the liar

                        Age: 11
Momma made me an appointment with the therapist across town. The doctor reccomended with all the trouble I've been getting into at school, and how much I act out, that maybe I just need someone to talk to. This has got to work because momma just can't take much more of it. The office is clean. A shelf to the left of the room with candles and books lining each row. A table in the middle with vogue and tmz magazines piled haphazardly. The black leather couch is stripped around the edges, flaking off from wear and tear. A plump receptionist with pointy nails and sharp voice sits behind her desk in the corner.

"He's ready for you now."
She says sharply. The therapists door opens and he steps out. He is much bigger than his roller chair behind him. A round man in a white shirt and grey bloomers with thick glasses rimming his eyes. He's breathing loud but he seems nice.
"Come on back ms."
He says curtly.
I nod my head and follow him into  his office. Momma can't come back here. It's all confidential. Which means he won't tell her anything I say. The therapist makes me take a quiz of 100 questions. 1 being often and 5 being never. I accidentally get them mixed up and do them backwards. Leading to a long sheet of misdiagnoses. He allows me to redo the worksheet correctly after I explain that I mixed 1 and 5 up. I score almost normal this time. Almost.
One of the questions were asking if I had ever been sexually assaulted. I think back to Charles. Is that really considered sexual assault? You always hear of someone being grabbed and dragged. Or forced.

"What does sexually assaulted mean?" I ask.

"It means someone has touched you in a way or a place they shouldn't have." He clarifies.

I check the yes box and bite my lip. Ever since momma fired Charles, nothing has been said about it. She wasn't happy about having to fire him, I could tell because she remained friends with him. But she never said anything to me about it. He stopped watching us and it was never brought up again.

I didn't know this at the time but anything you check yes to on that survey when you're a minor, they will give your guardian a copy of the items. Such as:

"Daisy thinks about harming herself, daisy has been sexually assaulted, etc."

I'm sure you could imagine my surprise when I was under the impression that everything was confidential.

Momma called the therapsist and screamed at him that I was a liar and he needs to remove that statement off of paper immediately; I had never been sexually assaulted. She screams at me for lying.

The next time I go to the therapist he asks me to go through the story of Charles with him. I don't want to. He said nothing would get back to momma and I don't want to tell him this. Momma thinks I try to make people pity me and paint her to be bad. That's not true. I love momma with all of my heart. I never want to hurt momma. Why can't I say what Charles did? I tell him what happened and he tells me that it wasn't my fault. Charles was an adult and knew what he was doing was wrong.

Dr Jones, my therapist, tries to talk to momma and tell her that I indeed have been sexually assaulted. Momma changes her story. She says she never knew and if she had known, something would have most certainly have been done about it. We leave his office, and after a few months of sessions with him, I stop going. Momma says I'm doing better and she sees a change. That I don't really need therapy anymore.

Dr Jones was the first person to listen and hear me. It felt good to be listened to and heard. I wasn't a victim in his eyes. I wasn't looking for pity either. I simply just wanted to be heard and understood. Momma always gets too busy with work to even stick her own head above the surface to breathe. Let alone do a mental check in. I know she's doing the best she can. But it feels like she just wants to keep me quiet about Charles.