If Only...

Chapter 5

I've come to the conclusion that the more you dread something the faster it seems to happen. I had been dreading my next therapy session with Dr. Wilson all week and now I was on my way to his office.

He had tried to get my attention on Sunday, but I avoided him like the plague. It felt too strange talking to him outside of his office. I didn't want or need any sort of relationship with him. I don't need people. I'm fine.

My dad thinks I'm shutting the world out, but after you have walked a mile in my shoes you would too right? I wasn't always this way. He made me into the monster I am today. Five years of threats and demands tend to do that to a person. But I didn't have to worry about him anymore. He didn't matter to me. Just a thing of the past. Well, that's what I keep telling myself anyway.

He knew what he was doing to me too. He just didn't care. His cold, calculating stare of hatred plus the threats made me do anything, and I mean anything, for him. I had prayed to God for forgiveness, but there was no forgiving my corrupt soul. I deserved every kind of punishment that God Almighty could think of.

Now if Dr. Wilson or dad heard me say that I would never hear the end of it. I was so tired of walking on pins and needles when it came to this community. Maybe I should move somewhere far, far away. Not just a couple of towns over where people still knew my name.

I'm pretty sure that the money dad was paying for therapy for going to waste. I spent so much time thinking about my actions that I could be my own therapist. Maybe I should suggest that to him the next time we talk.

But for now I was stuck in this session with Dr. Wilson and there was no way I was getting out of it. Maybe next week's session. We'll see about that one.

I walked in the door to his office and the calming effect surrounded me. There was a streaming waterfall wall with sounds of nature in the background. The room was painted a warm tan color with a slightly darker tan trim. The furniture was a pale blue that looked odd with the color scheme, but who was I to judge?

The receptionist smiled at me and told me that Dr. Wilson was ready for me. I was hoping I could just wait in the lobby the whole hour, but that was not to be. I took a deep breath and walked into his office with an air of confidence that I did not feel.

He was seated in the chair where he was the week before, looking exactly how I left him. He looked tired and worn out, probably from a  day of dealing with people's problems. Well, he did not have to worry about my problems.

 "Hello Catherine. Please take a seat." He nodded to the seat in front of him and I sat down as gracefully as I could. I didn't know what to say and I was thankful when he started conversation.

"Well I was surprised when I found out that you had made another appointment with me. What made you do it?" He asked his eyes locking with mine. My thoughts were directed to the inappropriate side of my mind, and I struggled to push them away. Note to self: Don't look into his eyes.

"Well I promised my dad two more sessions and then I am out of your hair." I said, staring at his nose, hoping that he didn't notice my lack of eye contact.

"First of you are not in my hair. It's not a problem talking to you. Understand?" I nodded and he continued.

"Secondly, I hope you get to a point that you feel you want to continue these sessions without your promise to your father hanging over your head. But, if you never come to that point that's okay too. Just know that I'm here to help you." His last statement infuriated me.

"You know what? I don't need your help, or my father's help, or anyone's help for that matter! I am just fine living my life and just because I've been treated poorly doesn't mean that I'm not okay. Get this is your head. I may have to be here, but I don't need your help!" I yelled at him. I expected him to react in kind and yell at me back, but he didn't.

"Well I'm sorry you feel that way, Cathy. I know you've been through a lot. I can see it in your eyes. They are haunted with the memories that you can't let go of. It's normal. You were gone for five years. That's a long time to be controlled, and now you have to find out who you really are. I'm here to help try to facilitate that change from victim to survivor. Whether you want to admit it or not, you need help. You can put up a front, but the pain is still there. It's waiting for alone time, so you can grieve about it in the best way you know how. But, with sessions in therapy you will find a new you with help from others. You can't shut everyone out forever. If you want to be strong then you must learn how to be weak." What he said made so much sense,  but I was so angry I couldn't think straight.

"You know that might be the most ridiculous thing that I have ever heard. I mean come on! To live through the pain and the suffering that I have, you can never show a sign of weakness. The braver I got, the less I hurt I became. Do you know how it feels to be used? Used for so long and in so many different ways it hurts to even hear his name. You think I wanted to do everything that I have done. It it was up to me, then no I would not be here. I would be carefree and as happy as anyone who has it all. But I don't. And I can shut out whoever I want to in my life. I don't have to worry about psychos without any friends and very little family. I get by. I will live. I'm not someone in need of fixing." I yelled again. He smiled and I turned to leave.

Just before I exited his office I heard him mutter, "The only ones that say that are the ones that need me the most."