When I'd walked out of her building, the valve of nerves and worry I carried finally released; expelling itself in one long exhale. I felt lighter, like a small load had been lifted off my shoulders. It wasn't completely removed—the burden still hovered over me, threatening to drop at the slightest disturbance. I could only hope that over time, the space between would grow.
I had no clue what I wanted to achieve out of my sessions. Validation? An explanation of my sexual relationships with women? Mollifying the guilt I felt when I thought of Diane and Sarah? Assurance that it was okay to move on from Hannah?
Would she reassure me that it was normal for my feelings to shift so strongly and abruptly towards another woman? Awoman who was the catalyst for my determination to seek help, regardless of whether she would give me another shot.
I was surprised at how eager I'd been to hear Dr. Grant's opinion. Despite my nerves and reservations, I was hopeful I could overcome the emotional baggage that I hadn't realized I was carrying. I felt ready to shed some of that burden.
Yet, now that I was seated again on her gray sofa and getting to the root of my issues, my avoidant mind decided to zero in on the silver piercing that glittered as Dr. Grant gestured her points. It was a stupid thing to focus on, considering I was paying an exorbitant amount to be stripped emotionally bare.
"And have you spoken with Diane or Sarah since?"
I tore my gaze away from Dr. Grant's nostrils before rolling down my sleeves. A pit of unease opened up when I thought of Hannah's family.
It was the first thing that fell out of my mouth when Dr. Grant enquired about my week.
I had talking points planned out for this session; and bridging the gap between myself, Diane, and Sarah were strong focal points. Especially after Sarah's perplexing and agitated text.
"The last I heard from Di was her text message with your details. She did offer her support if I needed it during this time but..." I shrugged, picking at the material of my shirt.
Diane's text was impersonal and short. The complete opposite of what she usually sent me. My gut opened up again, knowing she was likely disappointed and disgusted with me.
I would be.
Dr. Grant nodded as she tapped her pen against her pad in thought. It wasn't a secret that Dr. Grant counseled Diane. We broached this subject at our first meeting when we discussed our boundaries.
I knew she couldn't disclose details, but I was unsure about the legalities surrounding mutual clients and whether a conflict of interest would occur.
"Legally, there isn't an issue," Dr. Grant had informed me when I breached the subject last time. "Ethically, there could potentially be a problem if you were both discussing the same issue, yet had differing opinions. Confidentiality clauses prevent me from discussing clients in my care," she further explained "however, since Diane already disclosed to you that she attends my group sessions, I can assure you that there is no unethical reason why you can't continue to see me. Typically, the discussions that occur in group therapy are broader and not focused on one person or topic."
That had been a relief. Mainly because the thought of researching another grief counselor sounded daunting. It had already taken a lot for me to book my first appointment after Diane's recommendation.
"And Sarah?" Dr. Grant queried, pulling me out of my thoughts. "Any news from her?"
I rubbed the back of my neck. A cold pinprick stabbed me when I thought of my sister-in-law. I hated this divide but I wasn't too happy with Sarah right now, either.
The whole confrontational episode had been mortifying. I was ashamed that Sarah knew my deepest secret, and it pained me to think of how upset it made her and Diane.
But then, after the cloud of humiliation lifted and I was able to think back rationally to what Sarah had shrieked at me, my embarrassment soon gave way to annoyance.
There was no doubt that Sarah was dealing with a lot of emotional trauma. But, after recalling her admittance that she’d been well aware of my colorful dating life and had been for quite a while, I started to ponder why she'd kept quiet about itfor so long. It clearly bothered her, so her actions felt a little underhanded.
I thought back to those occasions when she would poke at me about dating after Hannah—how she didn't think I was ready to move on or should move on. All the while she knew about my not-so-covert arrangements with women.
I wish she’d been upfront about her disappointment with meprivatelyinstead of causing Diane unnecessary pain.
"She texted me recently," I confessed before unlocking my phone. I turned it towards her, showing Dr. Grant the lengthy texts Sarah had sent me last week. It was easier to show rather than to try and repeat her words. I wasn't entirely sure what Sarah was trying to say to me.
"Hmm..." Dr. Grant hummed as she skimmed my screen. Frowning, she jotted a few sentences on her pad in a flurry of movements. I wanted to lean over to read what she wrote because I was clearly in the dark about how to interpret Sarah's ramblings.
"I'm upset at her," I volunteered in the ensuing silence. I stared down at my phone before switching the screen off. "But at the same time, I can't blame her for her response. I feel a bit disgusted myself," I confessed as I continued to peer down at the dark screen before glancing up.
The piercing in Dr. Grant's nose wiggled as she pursed her lips. "Disgusted at Sarah?"
"No," I shook my head. "At myself." I thought that was obvious.
I dropped my gaze from her astute stare as I fought to explain myself. "I was mortified that Sarah knew I had been...having relations with other women," I inputted delicately.
"But at the same time, I know it's none of her business. She crossed the line, blurting it out in front of Diane that way. I getthat she's mad. I'm pretty pissed at myself, too, but I think she could've handled it better."
