Page 8 of Kissing Chaos
“Before you played tonsil hockey in our living room would have been great.” Ha, at least my sarcasm hasn’t made a run for it yet. Then I really would be alone.
“Neither of us wanted to hurt you. You are.” He pauses for a second, scrounging for words. “You are such a beautiful mix of delicacy and chaos and love, and I do care about you.” He squeezes me, and I have to fight the instinct to sink into his hold. I hate that I still feel this much comfort in his arms.
“You’re just not in love with me,” I prompt, knowing I’m right.
The loss of his body heat as he takes a step back is almost too much, but as he turns me to face him and wipes away a tear I didn’t know I’d shed, he cups my cheek. Glassy eyes look back at my own.
“I know it was wrong to keep it from you—”
“You should have told me when you realized things had changed.”
“I should have told you.”
I take a steadying breath, already compartmentalizing the situation. I’ll break down over this later. Right now, I want answers more than I want to wallow. “Why?”
He looks away as he says, “As much as I love who you are, it’s also…a lotto handle. I was drowning trying to keep up with your ever-changing hobbies, trying to keep this placeorganized, trying to keep both of us pleased in the bedroom when you were rarely ever truly there.”
When I slip out of the memory, Kristen is waiting patiently as she has the entirety of this session. I give her a rundown of the day of our breakup without much inflection in my tone.
“It sounds like Joey was struggling with some of his own worries and didn’t know how to direct and discuss those thoughts and feelings. But you have every right to feel those heavy thoughts toward your relationship. Aside from what you’ve already shared, how is this situation affecting your day-to-day living?”
The trembling of my hands doesn’t stop as I wipe my eyes again, expecting to feel tears on my face but finding it dry. I breath in a lungful of air and hold it for a few counts before letting it out.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admit my fears with a defeated shrug. “I’ve lost my drive. My routine is shot. I can’t sleep in the bed, because it was our bed even when it didn’t feel like our bed, so I’ve been curling up in the oversize chair in the office room. I don’t know how to push past it. I don’t want him to come back—I know we were done and that this was just the final nail in the coffin—but I also want the security of a partner.
“And then on top of that, I lost the job I’ve been absolutely rocking for the last eight years. Now, I’m dipping my toes in the freelancing waters, and organizing my life needs to be a priority, but I really just want to curl into a ball and not come out for a week or six. Or if I could just blink and have this be a nasty nightmare.”
By the time my monologue is complete, I’ve sunk even deeper into the cushions of the couch, seeking comfort from the dog pressed to my side.
Dr. Kristen’s stare holds a multitude of emotions but remains professional at the same time. “How have your ADHD symptoms been, Jett? Medications working?” she asks before looking down at her notepad then back at me. “Excessive stimming?”
I hum in confirmation. “More than I was before Christmas.”
“And what about your depression? I’m assuming that’s why you wanted to meet today.”
I nod, a small whimper escaping from my lips. “Sorry.” I clear my throat.
“Our feelings are meant to be felt and expressed. Never apologize for that.”
The thought spiral starts before I can shift to a new topic: catching Joey and Ella together, Joey’s parting words, my boss’s impersonal dismissal after I put my heart into my job, the fear of proving everyone right.
A tear finally leaks past my defenses.
Honor nudges my hand with her nose, and I realize that at some point I stopped running my fingers through her coat to pick at my jeans again.
“If I say it out loud, it makes all of this real,” I finally whisper.
“We can’t face our demons if we let them stay burrowed deep inside us.”
Unlovable.
Unworthy.
Lazy. No drive. No determination.
Negatives I’ve heard throughout my life play through my mind, but I do my best to silence them.
Instead, I say, “Right now, everything is utterly out of control and my chest feels so heavy that I can barely breathe most days. It’s constant anxiety attacks and forcing myself outof bed. I spent the last week feeling numb, praying that things would magically go back to normal.”
