Chapter Text
October 27, Monday
Went to my therapist today. He had finally asked what I really hoped he would never ask, though of course I knew he would eventually. He asked me if I wanted to talk about the stuff with Dad.
And I didn't, not really. First of all, if we talk about the part that was in the newspapers, I wouldn't tell him or you anything new. Everybody knows about it already, and what everybody doesn't know, I don't know either. I wasn't there. And Dad, obviously, didn't have a chance to talk to us about it.
Okay, technically he did, but he was too busy choking Mom, so yeah, here you go.
And the second part that I've just mentioned? I don't have even the slightest desire to talk about it. Even here.
I don't think I've talked about it with anyone at all. Mom is obviously not gonna bring it up, and I'm obviously not gonna bring it up to her either. I know that I'm not as smart as Leia or not as "emotionally mature" as Mom wants me to be, but I know that you are not supposed to talk to people about the bad stuff that happened to them, unless they bring it up first. And Leia is too busy pretending that we never had a father at all, which is good for her, I guess, but also? That's kinda childish, and hey, this is the unhealthy denial everyone was talking about, I think.
Anyway, I said no.
To his credit, the therapist didn't try to press me or anything. He just asked me if I wanted to talk about anything else then. And when I was heading there, I kinda wanted to talk about Din, because it's about the most exciting thing that happened to me since we've moved, but at this point I wasn't in the mood for it either.
So we just sat in an awkward silence for a minute. And then I just kinda started spilling things out.
Don't get me wrong, technically, I still haven't talked about Dad. I was just babbling about how tired I am of this city, and how much it sucks that no one in my class talks to me still, and how Leia is always such an asshole, and how Mom is never home, and even when she is, she is too tired to really spend time with us, and how much I miss everything we had back there, and how I just want things to go back to the way they were, and how sometimes I just want my Dad back, and how guilty I feel about it, because after all that happened, that must mean I don't care about Mom at all, but I'm just so tired of everyone pretending that he never even existed.
And, admittedly, I got a little teary at the end. Which I'm not supposed to be ashamed of, because it's apparently very unhealthy to bottle up your emotions. So, don't you dare judge me. Cause I won't care anyway.
And, also admittedly, it was a lot to unpack, but my therapist kinda did his best, so thanks for that. I actually felt a little better after venting like this. Maybe you really are not supposed to bottle up your, eh, emotions.
Oh, and also, apparently I'm not supposed to feel guilty about my emotions no matter what they are. Cause you can't control them and stuff. Which is a huge relief. But I still kinda do.
Mood: honestly, I don't even know anymore