The Beauty in Time

33

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You know what sucks? Therapy, that's what sucks.

I mean, why do we wake up one day and just decide to purposefully get ourselves hurt and called out in a cold little room with a loud clock in the corner and a couple of board games on a shelf that are meant to distract you while you pour your entire story out to this strange person you met five minutes ago?

Better yet, who wakes up one day and decides to be that person who does the calling out? Those are the people who weren't hugged enough as a child—Not me.

But also, yes, I too was not hugged enough as a child. As it turns out.

The worst thing of it all is I need to open up to this person more than I ever had before just so she can help me open up to other people instead of exploding or projecting onto them. It's exhausting, and I don't know her well enough to spill all of that to her.

Just when I'm ready to stop, I start remembering what made me come in the first place. It was that look on Matthew's face once I'd finished exploding on him in his living room. I still can't even put an emotion to it—maybe because there wasn't any emotion. He was almost numb, sat there just staring back at me as I threw him violently off his track.

I hurt him. That's why I'm here. That's why I need to tell Gabrielle about my childhood. That's why I need to answer her questions. It's why I need to complete the homework she gave me.

Give him something. It could be small, like my fondest memory from my childhood. Or even just something about my day, not even having to do with my childhood. Just practice giving him something. I'm afraid of shutting him out, but if I'm not ready to share too much just yet, then I need to share anything that I can to start letting him into my bubble.

Matt gives me things all the time. He tells me about his day, even the bad things that happened. He tells stories like the party he went to where he was introduced to alcohol and its effects. He was nineteen. He also tells me little ones like what he thought of Morgan when she was born and this puppy he grew up with.

He smiles when I tell him that today, I found someone who likes the same book as me and got it out of my stash to finally part ways with it for a couple of weeks while they rent it. He asked me what book it was, and ten minutes after telling him, I caught a glimpse of his phone where he was putting an online order for the book.

Gabrielle has also tasked me with trying to keep a door or two open sometimes. She told me not to go too far out of my comfort zone right away, but it's just one of the many things she'd like me to practice doing even if it's in small amounts. So, I leave my bedroom door open once I walk in there to collect something to show to Matthew while he's here.

It's raining outside tonight, so I grab a little dinosaur stuffed animal that somehow followed me all the way to now from this one foster home I was in when I was eleven to thirteen.

Matthew's brows quirk when I passively mention how long I'd been in their home. I don't even think I realize I mention it until he comments on it. "That's a long time for one house." He mutters, a hint of caution in his tone as if he's afraid of commenting.

I pause at that to catch up to the fact that I said eleven through thirteen. "Oh," I acknowledge as I look down at the soft dinosaur I used to cuddle with during rainy nights. "Yeah, um, I guess so." I shrug softly and briefly smile.

He tilts his head curiously and swallows before asking. "Why not longer?"

I lift my hand absently to run my fingers along the underside of my lip. Matthew pointed out my nervous habit a couple of weeks ago, and now I can't stop recognizing when I do it. I can't stop doing it either. "Um...They were a nice couple at first." I admit quietly. "But they already had, um, a daughter. A biological one. And when I turned thirteen, I started...noticing girls. At school." I absently play with the little horn on my stuffed dinosaur, keeping my eyes down on it. "One day they asked me about the girl I kept walking home with, and I said I had a crush on her. They didn't..." I pause, brows knitting together as I try to figure out what they thought.

They never straight out said it. In fact, they never actually said anything in response. The subject was quickly changed, and a couple of days later I was packing up my things and hugging the girl who'd been my sister for two years goodbye forever.

"I don't think they...wanted me around their daughter after that. So, I got sent back." I clear my throat, awkwardly peeking at him once I've sort of given up a story. It was a bit slow, but at least I managed it.

Therapy sucks.

His brows furrow and his nose scrunches like he's angry or disgusted, so I quickly continue. "But I got a dinosaur out of it." I grin as I hold up my little best friend.

Matthew's eyes drift to the stuffed animal I hold up for a second before they awkwardly drift back to mine, same expression still on his face.

Crap. Gabrielle never told me how to deal with his responses.

I nervously shift in my seat. "Um," I mumble, hoping to get the ball rolling. He still says nothing though, so I sigh and lean in a little closer, sat crisscross on my couch with him. "Matt, I'm really trying, but you have to say stuff too or else it's awkward and I don't want to say anything else." I whisper, nodding at him to go on.

He blinks, expression softening down. "Sorry." He tries shaking it off. I think it works for him. "It's just," He blinks a little more as he looks down at his lap. "They shouldn't be foster parents. Or responsible for any child if they're willing to give up those years over something like that."

My shoulders relax at that and I lean back against the armrest of the couch, facing him with my dinosaur in my lap. "Mm," I acknowledge. "I found her socials a few years back. Their daughter." I start smiling to myself. "She and her wife were celebrating their fifth anniversary."

Matthew laughs at that. I laugh along, hugging my dinosaur closer to my chest while I do. It feels good—fuzzy. "Shit, I'da loved to see their faces at the wedding." He grins, much more satisfied now. I get it—I was pretty satisfied when I found the post too.

Okay, maybe it doesn't totally suck. Still will always suck a little bit just because of the process, but this moment makes it a little worth it.

Matthew doesn't push for more. Instead, he starts telling me about this show his mom started that she won't stop gushing to him about. He says we should watch it since it's beginning to sound good. I promptly call him out for saying we like he wants to watch it with me when really, he has no choice because it's on the one service he still doesn't have. He scoffs dramatically as he waves me off while calling me crazy.

I decide he's the crazy one before I grab the remote to find the show. "We're watching this together, Matthew." I firmly declare while I search for it. "You don't get to come over while I'm not home to watch it by yourself."

He sighs deeply and dreadfully. That's what he did the last show we watched. I came home to him bingeing on my couch with all of the cookies I'd made the night prior in front of him. They were the best batch too. "Okay." He reluctantly agrees, mumbling to himself.

I like this thing with Matthew. Even if I don't ever share everything, I do like sharing little things like my day. Short stories that we'll end up laughing over.

I don't want to share the ones that might...change his opinion about me. Maybe even change the way he feels about me. The last thing I want to do is change the way he feels about me, so that means keeping certain things to myself. Whether Gabrielle tells me to tell him or not, I don't think I will.

I think he'd be okay with it. I've already shared a lot with him, right? And we're so close to our deadline—so long as he still likes me, we'll be okay. It's, like, one more month or so. We've gotten close these past few months, all with me sharing smaller things about myself.

We've gotten close without the stories, is what I mean. I think I could make it without the bigger ones. We could make it this time.

I've learned my lesson about shutting people out. I'll tell him about my day. I'll tell him about what I'm thinking. It'll be better. He won't feel so on the outside, I'll make sure of it.

I can do that for him. I can do it this time.