Worth It (39 page)

December 10th

So, I had my first therapy appointment today, and Dr. Jenson suggested I keep a journal. Now, I’m writing in a journal—obviously. I told her the main reason I finally came to therapy was because of Jed’s pushed me to try it. She thought that it was wonderful that I had someone to talk to about everything and that he encouraged me to open up with him when I felt ready. I also gave her the abridged version of events and feelings—all of them. When I started to tear up, she asked me what was making me cry, and I told her that I felt dirty and used and yadda, yadda, yadda. She asked me why I felt like that, and I replied honestly, telling her that if I wasn’t those things, then the stuff in my life wouldn’t have happened to me. She told me to stop trying to take control and ownership of other people’s actions.

So, obviously, I was, like, “Um, what?”

She laughed.

I guess I’m funny or something.

Anywho, so she said that I’m projecting their horrible actions on to myself. She said following my logic—that those things happened to me because I’m dirty—I’m taking the blame away from them. She said that I had no control in the situations, so I was trying to control some aspect by taking on the why. If I saw myself as dirty, it would explain why they treated me like they did, and it excuses them of their responsibility.

I don’t even know if I’m repeating it right, but I think I get what she was saying—kind of. She asked me if I would view my sister as dirty if something like that had happened to her. Now, that logic made sense.

Hells to the nizzo, she wouldn’t be dirty! And I’d have a damn manhunt to track down the prick, so I could shove a hot poker in his eye.

Then, I thought about it, and the things she said about blame and control made more sense. For some reason, however, I can’t just throw away twenty-two years of believing a certain way. I think in my head I understand what she’s saying, and to a point, I agree with it, but my heart doesn’t listen to reason. It’s weird, like my balance has been thrown off.

If I’m not really this horrible person I’ve always thought I was, then who am I?

Sitting in the waiting room today—Thursday—is entirely different from Tuesday. I’m still incredibly uncomfortable, but now, I’m not second-guessing everything. The session two days ago tilted my world off center, and now, not everything is as I assumed.

Did I really feel Ms. Perfect’s eyes? Was bouncing-knee lady really judging me?

“Anna,” Dr. Jenson’s voice calls out, interrupting my circular thoughts.

I smile warmly at my therapist before I follow her into her inviting office. Then, I sit on the same floral chair.

“So, how are you doing today?”

I take a deep breath. “I know I have a long way to go, but it’s like that one hour shook up my whole world.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I’ve been replaying everything we talked about last time, and I know it’s a good thing, but I feel like everything I know has been put on pause. If I take away my blame and put it on others, I don’t know what the hell to do with myself. On the outside, I know that everything is still the same. I’m a working college student with a crazy family and an awesome boyfriend. On the inside, I’m scrambling to snatch the pieces up that crumbled with the idea that I’m not really a bad person.”

“That’s really perceptive, Anna. Great job. It’s not common to make that much progress in one session.”

I smile weakly at her praise. “Thanks.”

“So, how do you feel now?”

“Confused. I didn’t realize I was projecting, but that idea really stuck with me. It’s like I always reasoned everything was my fault. If I were a shitty daughter, then that would explain why my biological father didn’t want anything to do with me. If I were a bad person, it would explain why I was treated badly by guys. But when I put this new spin on things, I can almost understand that it’s not me. It’s them. Logically, I get that, but I’ve spent my
whole life
thinking that I was somehow inferior, so I’m having a really hard time wrapping my head around all this.”

She smiles kindly. “I understand where you’re coming from, Anna. It’s going to take time to change your way of thinking, to change the perception you have of yourself.”

I nod. “A part of me keeps going back to thinking everything is my fault. If I didn’t choose to go to that party, I wouldn’t have been raped. If I didn’t choose to date
him
, then I wouldn’t have been treated like that. If I made an effort to find and know my biological father, maybe he would want to be there for me. It’s almost like my subconscious is saying, ‘Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.’ ”

“The thought process you’re going through is completely natural. It’s human nature to be afraid of change, even the good kind. Emotional change can be even more difficult because it’s not tangible. You can’t watch and control the physical progression, and for someone like yourself, who had control ripped from you and you want to control things now, it makes this type of change even more difficult.”

Her last sentence catches me completely off guard. “You think I’m a control freak?”

She laughs. “No, not at all. All I’m saying is that oftentimes, when people have had their control taken from them, it’s difficult for them to relinquish blame because it can feel like they’re giving up the only control they have left.”

I rest my head back in the seat and allow my brain to adjust to what she just said.

“There are a couple of things you can do to help yourself come to terms with this sort of change.”

“Okay,” I agree softly but eagerly. I’d love to hear about new strategies since my current ones suck.

“We’ll go through each of the underlying circumstances one by one, but for now, a great way to help yourself is to remember your good qualities often.”

I nearly burst with laughter, but I catch myself.

“I know it’ll feel strange, especially in the beginning, but it’s a helpful strategy.”

I nod. “It does sound weird, but I was laughing at reminding myself about my good qualities. Aside from being fiercely loyal and hardworking, I don’t really think I possess any.”

She smiles knowingly. “Well, those are good qualities to have, but even I know you have more than that. What are some qualities you’ve been told you have?”

My mind immediately goes to the negative—disgusting, fat, weak, slutty…worthless. I slam down the thick steel door on those thoughts and try to—

“What were you just thinking?” she interrupts.

I sigh, lean forward, and rub my face with my hands, keeping my face covered. “My first instinct was to go toward the negative, but I tried to block it out when it started.”

“Great, Anna. That’s really good.”

I smile weakly and blow out a breath. “Jed says I’m sweet and honest and beautiful.”

“He sounds like a really nice guy, like he’s good for you.”

I smile.

She continues, “Another idea you might consider is opening up to him more.”

Her idea churns my stomach.

“I know I mentioned it briefly last time, and you said that you talked to him about the rape.”

I nod.

“And you said that was helpful for you and that he was there for you, right?”

I nod again.

“So, there’s a good chance that he’ll be there for you with everything else. It could be helpful to talk about everything with someone you are close to, someone whom you can bounce thoughts off of whenever they might come up.”

I take a deep breath as I consider her advice.

Can I do that?

I think maybe I can.

December 12th

After today’s therapy session, I find myself more centered than I’ve felt in a while…probably ever. Yes, I still have a very long way to go, but the path to the end of the tunnel is illuminated. It’s faint, but I can see it. I have hope for myself, and I’m surprised to find that I’m not struggling to smother that hope, but I’m embracing it. Listening and absorbing my therapist’s advice about talking to Jed makes my stomach flutter but in a good way. Just thinking about talking about things with him makes me feel that flickering of lightness that baring my rape secret gave me. I’m going to talk to Jed tonight before I chicken out. I’m going to lay it all out and pray that he’ll be there to catch me when I take the plunge.

As I make my way over to Jed’s, nerves are attacking my stomach like angry wasps. I’ve been trying to sort my ass out by myself for so long that the thought of baring everything fills me with both hope and dread. Logically, I know that he’ll be happy about me confiding in him because he wants me to open up, to trust him to be there for me.

Still, my illogical and cynical mind keeps chanting,
You’ll drive him away!

This is why I have to do this tonight before I lose my nerve. The hardest part is finding the right time to talk about it. I guess there’s never really a good time, but I don’t want to walk in say,
Hey baby, how are you? Good? That’s good. So, you’ll never guess what. When I was fifteen, my boyfriend physically, mentally, and sexually abused me. How was your day?

Yeah, that’ll go over like a fart in a space suit.

As I pull into his apartment complex, the setting sun shines through the clouds in beams of light almost as if God is giving me a sign from above that I’m ready to do this. I love Jed. I trust him even though I haven’t told him yet. I’ll do that soon but one step at a time. My gut tells me to lay everything, all my issues, out there for him, for us.

For me.

I reach out to knock, and like usual, before my knuckles connect with the door, it swings open. Jed wraps his arms around my waist. He lifts me up and presses his lips to mine. I immediately clutch on to his broad shoulders as I melt into him. He opens my mouth with his lips, and he slips his tongue inside. I eagerly return the passionate kiss.

All too soon, he pulls away, grinning. “Hey.”

I grin back. “Hey, yourself.”

“How was your ride back to your folks’ place?” he asks, referring to last night when I went home to study.

“Good. How was your night after I left?”

He pouts deliberately. “Meh, it would have been better if you were here.”

I roll my eyes. “You know I have a ton of crap to get done before the semester ends, so don’t give me a guilt trip. You were there not too long ago, old man.”

He childishly sticks his tongue out before setting me down inside and closing the door behind us. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Can’t blame me though for wanting to stare at your beautiful face all night.”

By the way his eyes travel my body, I know he didn’t want to just stare at my face all night, and I smirk.

“I wish I could have done the same.” I stand on my tiptoes and give him a quick peck. Then, I take my coat off and head toward the couch. I want to get this show on the road, but I have no damn idea how to broach the subject.

“You got something on your mind, pretty lady?” he asks, plopping down next to me.