Dr. Anna patiently tapped her pen against her notebook, as she waited for me to answer. She seemed comfortable with the prolonged silence when all it did was make me itch.
"I dunno. Home, I guess."
The silence continued until I couldn't stand the tick-tock of her clock.
"My mom wasn't really attentive." That was putting it mildly.
Dr. Anna clicked her pen twice as she observed me. It was really unnerving, and I wondered if this was a tactic they were taught. "Maria, am I correct in assuming that your parents are a sensitive subject?"
I blew my breath out at that understatement. "I don't see how it has anything to do with what I'm going through now," I explained.
Dr. Anna leaned forward in her green, highbacked chair. "Maria, you were a child when you started having sexual intercourse. And the sex you experienced was not normal, either. You were exposed to explicit, graphic, and violent sex at such an early age."
Oh, God. If Dr. Anna knew that I was exposed to sex via my mother and her sexual exploits at an even younger age, then the good doctor would definitely think there was a correlation.
"When we chatted last week about what you wanted out of these sessions, one of your main points was addressing your sexual relationships with men and how to set and maintain healthy boundaries."
My eyes sank to the floor. "Yeah."
"If we explore possible childhood trauma, we can then work on your adult wounds in the current context. You're in a safe space here, Maria. We can go as deep or as surface level as you like. Doing inner child work into your parental relationships can help you get to the root of your adulthood relationships. Not only with romantic partners but with friends and other loved ones."
I scrunched my nose up, even though what she said made sense. "Inner child work? You're not going to make me give birth to myself, are you?”
Dr. Anna's red lips quirked at my attempt at deflection. "No. It's all about addressing childhood trauma and consolidating the inner child with your adult form. But I'm getting ahead of myself," she waved off. "I can guide you through it at a later session if you think it may help you."
She leaned forward again, her expression earnest. "Now, do you feel you're in a safe enough space to open up?"
I took a deep breath as my eyes smarted with moisture. "Um...shit." I stared at the ceiling to try and ward off the tears. I hated crying. "I've never talked about this before. Not even my closest friends at school knew."
"Knew what, exactly?"
I rolled my lips in. "How bad it was at home."
"Okay," she gently replied. "Let's start with your parents. Take your time. Remember, it may take several sessions to get through it all."
Fucking great.
"Well...let's see. My parents." Fuck, it was only session two, and I wanted to lie on this couch and bawl like a baby.
"My dad was there. And then he wasn't."
"What do you mean?" I refused to look at Dr. Anna but could hear her scribbling away.
"I remember bits and pieces of my dad. We were happy once, you know? I remember him lifting me into his arms, I remember watching old action movies with him on his knee, I remember him cuddling with my mom. And then, he was just...gone."
"Did he leave or pass away?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. My mom changed her story so many times I didn't know what was true. She told me he died, that he left with another woman...she even tried to convince me that he never existed. That I imagined him, and he actually took off when she was pregnant."
It used to drive me crazy trying to separate what was true from what were the drunken ramblings of a mad woman. Was he dead? Did he willingly leave? Did mom kick him out? If so, why did he leave and not take me with him? Why didn't he try to see me? Did I do something wrong?
Over and over, the questions kept swirling in my mind. When I was bullied as a kid, I used to fantasize that my dad would pull up to school in a red Ferrari to pick me up. We'd ride off to the Hamptons because that's where the rich people lived, and my real life would start.
And then I grew up and stopped my childish fantasies. No one was coming for me.
Our session ended not long after that. Digging up the past exhausted me both physically and emotionally. Dr. Anna spent the last ten minutes checking in with me and reviewing talking points for our next session—a session I was unsure of attending. But my desire to get better outweighed my discomfort.
I went home and slept straight through the night until 7 AM. I cleaned my apartment, did my laundry and a small grocery shop. By 5 PM, I decided to go into the salon and catch up on work since I left early yesterday for my session with Dr. Anna.
