Page 4 of Under Your Care

“Oh, definitely. I’d be living in a box on the side of the road if it weren’t for their help. I’ve been between part-time jobs for a bit now. My parents told me I should focus on my courses though, so they’ve been helping with my rent. Some days I just can’t do anything. I mean, I physically can, but it’s like my body is stuck within my apartment walls by an invisible barrier. My mom’s the one who convinced me to try therapy again. She’s been pretty worried about me.” I shrugged, trying to sound casual about it all.

Dr. Cohen nodded, and then decided to hit me with a real question. “What do you feel are your biggest concerns with your mental health?”

I had been anticipating this question and sighed before I began. “Well… at first it was just depression. But later on, I was diagnosed with PTSD and panic disorder. Then when I was seventeen, they diagnosed me with borderline personality disorder. I’m on mood stabilizers and Xanax as needed for my panic attacks.”

Not even trying to maintain eye contact now, I started focusing on Dr. Cohen’s carpet. It was plush. My shoes sank down into it a bit.

“I’m sorry that you’ve been dealing with all of that, Lane. Could you try telling me a little bit more about your trauma? I know it’d be difficult, but it’s important for me to know in order to properly help you,” he explained gently. “However, this is our first session, so if you feel you can’t tell me yet, it’s alright.”

“It’s okay. It’s uh… sexual abuse. It’s not happening right now, though. It was when I was a lot younger.” I still couldn’t meet his eyes and instead focused on the wall behind him.

He nodded. “Are you comfortable sharing more about it?”

“It’s alright. It’s not that hard to talk about now since I’m older, but I used to not be able to at all. I’ve repeated it so many times, so it just feels normal. I guess that means the therapy did help.” My smile didn’t reach my eyes. I braced myself before spitting out, “My cousin sexually abused me for a few years.”

Dr. Cohen frowned. He spoke softly as if not to scare me away, “I’m very sorry to hear that, Lane. Is this cousin still in your life?”

“Um… Kind of?” My eyebrows furrowed as I explained, “I see him at family stuff, like holidays or weddings. He hasn’t… Hasn’t hurt me since I was twelve. My parents know some of it, but I never actually told them that it was him.”

“Even if he’s not actively abusing you, I imagine it’s incredibly difficult for you to see him. Especially if you’re hiding his abuse from your family.”

“I don’t think I’m hiding it…” I murmured, “I– I just don’t think they need to know?”

“Hmm,” he hummed. “Is that because you think they would be unsupportive of you because it’s a family member?”

“Oh, no! No, my parents aren’t like that. They’re very supportive. I owe everything to them. I just don’t see the point of telling them now. It’d cause a big mess and I can’t handle that.”

Dr. Cohen frowned again, clicking his tongue.

“Lane, you do not need to force yourself to socialize with your abuser just to maintain family dynamics.” I winced as he continued. “How does he act during these events? Does he go out of his way to make you uncomfortable?”

I shrugged, feeling small. Dr. Cohen leveled his gaze to me, silently encouraging me to answer him.

“I mean… Sometimes he makes comments.” I looked away, hating how suffocating his attention was starting to feel. “I don’t think I want to talk about this anymore…”

“I understand. I’d like to speak more about him still being in your life another time, though. As a compromise, could you tell me about the abuse?” My body tensed up - I was ready to leave at this point. He noticed the movement and tilted his head again, “I know. I know you hate this, but I’m pushing you for a reason.”

I scoffed, remembering that he had literally just told me earlier that we didn’t have to talk about it because it was my first session. I was beginning to feel sick. This felt too forced, too invasive.

“I can’t,” I said, twisting my charm bracelet around and around my wrist.

“But you can. I think you’re much stronger than you give yourself credit for. If you get it out now, you’re going to feel so much relief, I promise,” he coaxed.

I felt like this was an inappropriate way for a therapist to behave. Noneof the others had ever pushed me this hard. But, maybe that was why I hadn’t been making any progress with them? The deep ache in my chest that I got whenever I tried to talk about Tate was out in full force. Would telling Dr. Cohen help? What if he dropped me as a patient because I wasn’t complying with his methods?

I picked the skin around my nails, feeling like I was two seconds away from passing out. I sucked in a deep breath of air, deciding - for better or worse - to just tell him. At least he’d stop pushing me then.

“Okay,” I whispered, causing his brows to raise. I continued fidgeting as I said, “It began when I was ten. School had just closed for summer break. Back then, my family lived in the same neighborhood as my aunt and uncle. I had a few cousins and we’d play together all of the time. It was me, Tate, and Diana. Tate and I were inseparable. Diana played with us most of the time, but being boys, we sometimes excluded her from our games because she was a girl.”

“That summer, Diana was fifteen and Tate was nineteen. I know that sounds like way too big of an age gap to play together, but I grew up with them, you know? When I was really little, we’d play house. Diana would be the mom, Tate the dad, and I’d be the baby. From what my parents remember, they both seemed to genuinely enjoy playing with me, even though I was so much younger than them. As the years passed, Diana gradually stopped hanging out with Tate and I. She fit in well with the older neighborhood girls. I imagine as she hung out more with them, she stopped wanting to spend all her time with her annoying brother and baby cousin.”

I could feel my tears building behind my eyes. I wanted to finish the story and leave before they escaped.

“Seeing how we all grew up as playmates, the adults didn’t find it that strange that Tate was still frequently playing with me despite our nine year age gap. I obviously didn’t realize it at the time, but what nineteen-year-old guy wants to spend his time catching fireflies and playing videogames with a ten-year-old every single day?” I huffed.

My chest started to burn with emotion, but I took a deep breath and continued on, “Tate… Tate started touching me. Inappropriately. He said it was a fun game he had learnt from his friends at college. I knew it felt wrong, but I couldn’t explain to myself why, so I tried… I tried to play along. I didn’t want to disappoint him. I just let it happen. It started with him rubbing himself against me, but then he moved onto touching me under my clothes. A month into it, he… he raped me. It was in my childhood treehouse.”

I felt a tear track down my face, failing in my quest to keep the tears at bay until after the appointment.

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