“A few things stood out to me. Namely, Raya, you disclosed abuse.”
She nods, and I grab her hand, reassuring her even though she doesn’t seem to need it.
“I just want to be clear that I don’t expect you to give details here. We won’t process the trauma itself in couples therapy, but I do have colleagues who do that kind of work, and I’m happy to give you names.”
Raya shrugs. “I’m good. I don’t need it.”
Dr. Williams nods. “What matters for our work in here is how that kind of trauma shapes the way someone understands the world around them, particularly as it relates to relationships. But if at any point you don’t want to discuss it or even reference it, please let me know.”
“I will.”
“That kind of trauma has lasting effects, as I’m sure you know. Especially at the hands of a caregiver. It can teach that love and harm can occupy the same space. It can make the victim distrustful. Some victims develop a heightened tolerance for intrusion. Some become hypersensitive to it, craving bodily autonomy. Exerting control or hypervigilance overrelationships. And sometimes victims find love unpredictable. Intensity can feel regulating. When it stops, it can feel like abandonment. Or danger.”
She turns her attention to me. “Ace, what I see in your history is a lifetime of emotional deprivation. It seems your caregivers were highly critical, especially your mother. It read to me like her approval and affection were important to you and you never truly got them. Or when you did, it wasn’t because it was given unconditionally, it was because you had to earn it.”
I nod.
“Children who experience this often grow up to become receptive to the highs and lows of intense relationships. The lows replicate the emotional abandonment, and the highs make you feel like you finally matter to someone.”
Well, damn.
“This pairing,” she says, “doesn’t happen by accident. It happens because it both triggers and soothes something in both of you.”
Raya looks over at me, her expression unreadable.
“But soothing isn’t healing,” Dr. Williams continues. “And intensity isn’t the same as love. So we have a lot of work to do.”
She picks up her iPad, scrolls, then nods to herself. “Last time you were here, Ace, your main concern was trust. Raya, yours was comfort. Maybe safety is accurate, as well.”
“Yes, because obviously she doesn’t feel safe to trust me with all of her," I say. "I’ve told her before I don’t judge her, but when she hides things, it makes everything seem bigger than it is.”
“What about whatyouhide?” she says to me before turning back to Dr. Williams. “He was having issues with a woman at work and didn’t tell me. So he hides, too.”
“Okay, but to be fair, I had a good reason.”
“Ace, I hear you justifying a behavior for yourself but not for Raya.”
“Thank you!” Raya yells.
“Nah. It’s different. I hid it to protect everybody involved.”
“Protect?”
“Protect,” I repeat. “Matter of fact, everything I do is to protect either her, myself, or my family. Or, hell, perfect strangers.”
“Everything?” Raya says, her brows furrowed. “Are you gonna make me bring it up?”
“Wait, okay.” Dr. Williams shakes her head. “We’re getting off track, here. Protection from what?”
“From Raya lashing out. Trying to control shit.” I sit for a minute, my knee bouncing. “Doc, if I say something in here…something illegal, would you report it?”
“Seriously, Ace?” Raya looks at me sideways, a silent warning.
“Well, it would depend,” Dr. Williams says. “I don’t have to report past crimes involving adults, but if there’s a credible threat for future harm of anyone, I would be obligated.”
Her eyes dart back and forth between me and Raya.
“Alright, fuck it,” I say. “She stalks people. When she told you she saw me before we met, what she meant was, she stalked me for two whole years.”
