The Truth of the Matter

15. Spring Awakening

Since January, we were together over a dozen different times and in all manner of positions. I may or may not have left my red panties on his bathroom sink as a reminder of our times together. He surely didn't have to be monogamous with me, but I'll be damned if I didn't want him to think of me anytime he even came close to being with another woman.

I shook my head, trying to get my mind right, wrapping my green scarf tighter around my neck as I strode into my therapist's office for my weekly appointment.

It was after my little meltdown that first morning at Quinn's apartment, I fell face first into a pile of realization that I had some issues. Not that it was a surprise to me, but just that I was finally willing to bring them up. That I wasn't afraid to deal with the aftershocks and repercussions.

My therapists name was Candace, she was warm and blunt with enough wisdom to be sage but not enough years to be flippant about it. Our first meeting had been awkward and full of me trying to rationalize my feelings as if I was the one in charge.

She had finally put down her clipboard in frustration, pursed her lips, and demanded

"You're not the therapist now, I am. Let yourself be helped."

Being relinquished of that responsibility lifted an innumerable weight off of my shoulders and allowed me to swim around in my thoughts.

Candace listened just as intently as I would have, asking thoughtful questions, and sharing in my annoyance at societal norms that were outdated and unnecessary like sending thank you cards rather than just shooting a text or holding the doors for someone who is half a mile away. She let me pace, or sit, scribble, or cry; whatever the situation called for. If I felt like it would be a particularly trying session I always brought her coffee.

"No coffee for me today? This week must not have been too tumultuous" she remarked lightly as I settled into the squishy suede couch.

I laughed, picking at my cuticle before I answered

"Not really, but I think I need to do something."

She made an interested sound and waited for me to continue.

I confessed

"I think I need to find out what happened to my parents...not because I care about them...Because they are horrible...But...I just feel like it would resolve something."

She flipped around in her notes and asked me curiously

"What do you want to resolve?"

I fumbled around for the right words

"Just...like...why I feel the need to run away. I mean, I know it's because I got left all the time. But like, there has to be more right?"

I was searching for some meaning in my life. Seeking out the truth behind seemingly innocuous actions that I did. It couldn't be as simple as I wanted to leave people before they left me, could it? I didn't want to let people in because knowledge of my vulnerabilities was a weapon in their arsenal to potentially use against me.

She gently prodded me

"Why does there have to be more?"

I explained desperately

"Because a lifetime of pushing people away can't be that simple. There has to be something more because otherwise....Then I'm just an idiot. I knew all along what was wrong and I did absolutely nothing to fix it. I've been running away from people my whole life for no damn good reason. What a loss."

Years of hiding myself from others, putting on all the motions of relationships while locking my soul away, pushing away the kindest of gestures because I wanted to do it all on my own. I needed to be in control and I needed to hold the power of the exit. In a world where I was powerless, I needed a weapon to regain my status.

She smiled compassionately

"Maybe think of it this way. What made you want to care enough to fix it now? You were happy to hang out in your bubble before, but now you're not. You're incredibly intelligent, and you know what you're feeling, so what brought it about?"

I didn't want to admit that I was looking to make amends because of a man. It felt against the rules of feminism and basic logic.

I sheepishly admitted

"I broke up with a guy, and I got scared. It made me want to be better."

She raised her eyebrow

"Did he ask you to do this?"

I fervently shook my head

"No, I definitely wouldn't be here if that was the case. If anyone demands I do something, even if I was about to do it willingly, I won't anymore."

She laughed and noted smartly

"Well, that's a whole separate issue. Maybe you just needed to give yourself permission to break your pattern. To realize that it isn't helpful to you anymore, and you're strong enough to stop pushing others away from you. Just maybe, you are strong enough to withstand a fall and are wanting to take that risk for the first time. Maybe it won't be as bad as you used to think. Maybe people aren't all bad like you thought before."

I leaned my head back against the couch, a new sense of self emerging. A warrior, a brave woman with face paint, leather, and chains. A queen amidst a kingdom of subservient neuroses, who had slain her fears and would only continue to conquer. Who stood atop a pile of vanquished phobias and stared defiantly into the face of anything that tried to push her down.

I grinned, my soul feeling dangerously open and unbalanced but freer than ever. A small part of me was begging to be put back into the shell of self preservation, but the queen was louder, silencing that part with her newfound bravado. I'm pretty sure I really liked the queen.