So Wrong, It's Right
Don't Tell Me How I Feel
Therapy? So everyone thought I was sick in the head? Ember was supposed to be the one person I could go to without the fear of being judged, and I admit, I've been more angry than usual lately but I don't think it's so bad that I need a damned doctor to tell me what or how I feel. There's no way Ember came up with this idea on her own. She had help. Maybe Alex, or my mom. Whatever, doesn't matter. I'm not going to fucking therapy.
"Jack, I didn't mean it in a bad way."
"I know exactly what you meant. You can't handle me so you think I'd be better of in someone else's car. Thanks, Ember."
I crawled off of her bed and scurried back to my room, trying to shut the door quietly, even though I felt another fit of rage coming on. All of these emotions I've been feeling, I never meant to take them out on anyone. It's just that, even before my accident, I've been feeling a lot like my dad. I find myself wondering if this is why he treated us the way he did, because he just couldn't control it. And then I wonder what he'd have been like if he had gotten help. Now I guess I'm a hypocrite, since I'm denying it the same as he did with my mom.
She was always the root of his anger. Then, he started on me. For the longest time, when he would get upset with mom, he'd be kind to me. Like I was the last good thing he had left. I guess we got too close and he wanted to cut the string. Well, he cut it, all right. Now I'm just as screwed up as he was and there's nothing I can do about it.
"Jack?" Ember was tapping at my door, probably afraid to come in because I might scream at her. "Please just talk to me about this. I'm worried about you."
Shutting her out was something I absolutely did not want to do. Even though I would target her when I got upset, I always felt bad about it. That's more than I could ever say for my dad. Frowning, I opened the bedroom door and let her in. We sat down on my bed without saying a word, she just wrapped her arms around me and let me feel the hurt.
"Can you tell me about your dad?"
She would have asked eventually, I knew that, I just didn't know if I wanted to talk about it now. Still, I owed her something, anything to make her feel like I'm not just screwed up because of her.
"He used to be a good guy. When I was kid, I wanted to be just like him. He and my mom were so in love, a lot like you and I were before my accident, ya know? Then he just snapped. It started small, he would just yell at mom. Then he got the point where yelling wasn't enough. If she didn't cook something perfect for dinner, he'd throw everything from the table at her and mom would make me leave the room. They would fight for hours."
I closed my eyes, burying my face in the crook of Ember's neck. Just thinking about those times sent chills down my spine.
"A few years passed and we thought he was doing better, but we could never be sure where he stood - Mentally. Some days he was happy, some days he was sad and pissed. It was when he started drinking, and I mean really drinking, to mask his feelings that he started coming after me. I always had this little inkling that he was hitting my mom, but she always forced me out of the room before it happened. And one night, mom and I were eating dinner because dad had gone to a bar. He come home, drunk, pissed and flipped the table with both of us sitting at it. Mom was knocked back so I went to her side, that's when dad came after me."
I remember the way he raised his hand and how bad it hurt when it came down on my face. I remember the scream that mom let out when he did the same to her. All of the names he called her, called us.. More importantly, the way mom got back up and cleaned up the kitchen once dad went to bed. The way she kissed me goodnight and I woke up in the same house as that monster.
"It went on for years. He was so unpredictable. We never knew if he'd come home happy or if he'd come home swinging. Then, one night, he went too far. Mom was still cooking when he came home and dad flipped shit. Beat the living fuck out of her, so I called the cops. Mom explained our situation and he went to he hospital after he was arrested. He ended up getting an evaluation which proved he had depression, anxiety and bi-polar. From there, mom got a restraining order, called a lawyer and filed for divorce. But she would always look at me with this.. face, not like she blamed me, but like she feared for me."
Ember let out a soft sigh and gripped me tighter. Of course, I didn't tell her everything there was to tell about my dad. I didn't want to re-live it, but those were the important parts. As I got older, I realized that mom looked at me that way because all of those things could be passed down through genetics.
"Do you think you have any of those things, Jack?"
I know what she was expecting. She was expecting me to tell her that I was depressed or just completely fucked in the head, but I wasn't. Or, maybe, I am. But I won't admit it. I won't be like him.
"I think I'm just lost." I sighed, running my hand along her thigh. She really cared about me. I at least owed to her to take care of myself. "I'll go. I'll get help."
"Jack, I didn't mean it in a bad way."
"I know exactly what you meant. You can't handle me so you think I'd be better of in someone else's car. Thanks, Ember."
I crawled off of her bed and scurried back to my room, trying to shut the door quietly, even though I felt another fit of rage coming on. All of these emotions I've been feeling, I never meant to take them out on anyone. It's just that, even before my accident, I've been feeling a lot like my dad. I find myself wondering if this is why he treated us the way he did, because he just couldn't control it. And then I wonder what he'd have been like if he had gotten help. Now I guess I'm a hypocrite, since I'm denying it the same as he did with my mom.
She was always the root of his anger. Then, he started on me. For the longest time, when he would get upset with mom, he'd be kind to me. Like I was the last good thing he had left. I guess we got too close and he wanted to cut the string. Well, he cut it, all right. Now I'm just as screwed up as he was and there's nothing I can do about it.
"Jack?" Ember was tapping at my door, probably afraid to come in because I might scream at her. "Please just talk to me about this. I'm worried about you."
Shutting her out was something I absolutely did not want to do. Even though I would target her when I got upset, I always felt bad about it. That's more than I could ever say for my dad. Frowning, I opened the bedroom door and let her in. We sat down on my bed without saying a word, she just wrapped her arms around me and let me feel the hurt.
"Can you tell me about your dad?"
She would have asked eventually, I knew that, I just didn't know if I wanted to talk about it now. Still, I owed her something, anything to make her feel like I'm not just screwed up because of her.
"He used to be a good guy. When I was kid, I wanted to be just like him. He and my mom were so in love, a lot like you and I were before my accident, ya know? Then he just snapped. It started small, he would just yell at mom. Then he got the point where yelling wasn't enough. If she didn't cook something perfect for dinner, he'd throw everything from the table at her and mom would make me leave the room. They would fight for hours."
I closed my eyes, burying my face in the crook of Ember's neck. Just thinking about those times sent chills down my spine.
"A few years passed and we thought he was doing better, but we could never be sure where he stood - Mentally. Some days he was happy, some days he was sad and pissed. It was when he started drinking, and I mean really drinking, to mask his feelings that he started coming after me. I always had this little inkling that he was hitting my mom, but she always forced me out of the room before it happened. And one night, mom and I were eating dinner because dad had gone to a bar. He come home, drunk, pissed and flipped the table with both of us sitting at it. Mom was knocked back so I went to her side, that's when dad came after me."
I remember the way he raised his hand and how bad it hurt when it came down on my face. I remember the scream that mom let out when he did the same to her. All of the names he called her, called us.. More importantly, the way mom got back up and cleaned up the kitchen once dad went to bed. The way she kissed me goodnight and I woke up in the same house as that monster.
"It went on for years. He was so unpredictable. We never knew if he'd come home happy or if he'd come home swinging. Then, one night, he went too far. Mom was still cooking when he came home and dad flipped shit. Beat the living fuck out of her, so I called the cops. Mom explained our situation and he went to he hospital after he was arrested. He ended up getting an evaluation which proved he had depression, anxiety and bi-polar. From there, mom got a restraining order, called a lawyer and filed for divorce. But she would always look at me with this.. face, not like she blamed me, but like she feared for me."
Ember let out a soft sigh and gripped me tighter. Of course, I didn't tell her everything there was to tell about my dad. I didn't want to re-live it, but those were the important parts. As I got older, I realized that mom looked at me that way because all of those things could be passed down through genetics.
"Do you think you have any of those things, Jack?"
I know what she was expecting. She was expecting me to tell her that I was depressed or just completely fucked in the head, but I wasn't. Or, maybe, I am. But I won't admit it. I won't be like him.
"I think I'm just lost." I sighed, running my hand along her thigh. She really cared about me. I at least owed to her to take care of myself. "I'll go. I'll get help."
Oh how I always come back to this story
1/27/18