After my father had officially moved out and
my brother left for college,
it was just me and my mom living in the
big apartment that used to house the entire
family.
It suddenly felt very big and lonely.
My room was all the way at the other
side of
the apartment, away from what
used to be my parent's room--now just my mom's room.
The family dinner table seemed big and empty.
My mom often asked:
"Honey do you want
to go and talk to
a therapist, or counselor?"
I told her:
"No."
I thought people would make fun of me for seeing a shrink.
I really wanted her to put her foot down and make
me go, but instead she listened to my request.
When I was in college I did finally go visit
the land of the black leather couch (it ended up being a vinyl brown chair).
I had broken
up with my boyfriend and was in major distress.
I didn't know how to handle these emotions.
Over the years I had eavesdropped on so many discussions
between my mom and dad that I would actually
hear their words come out of my mouth when I was arguing
with the ex-boyfriend. Weird.
The therapist helped me to understand why I
acted in the ways that I did.
I wished I had gone to the therapist when
I was in high school. I could have dealt with the
problems at home while they were happening, instead of
letting them fester inside my head for all of those years.
