Page 27 of Collin: Episodes 13-15
“So, I have to stop believing those parts? Get rid of them? Push them down and not listen?”
“No. We never want to push parts deeper. That’s a good way to end up with orphaned or abandoned pieces of ourselves. And even if we aren’t thinking about them, they’re still there. It takes a lot of energy to shove parts down and away and pretend that we didn’t have those experiences and aren’t carrying those stories. That’s a good way to fuel a burnout.”
Collin laughed and slapped a hand over his face. “You don’t say.”
Broderic smiled back. “In my practice, we talk to our parts. We tease out their story, and we help them with new ones. The core of the work is getting the parts of ourselves to trust and listen to Self, the center of who we are. It can take a while to find Self. But we can get there. And then Self can shepherd and take care of and talk to all our parts.”
Can you really handle what all my parts would tell you? Collin stared at the therapist. Because it’s not playgrounds and little kids. “Do you have a safe word?”
“That’s an interesting question. Why do you ask? Since we’re not in a scene…”
Collin held up his hand, throat and back tight. “I’m not really here to talk about playgrounds and little kids. How much can I say before you want to run? Before I look in your eyes and know that you need me to shut up for your own good?”
Broderic mirrored Collin’s posture and took off his glasses. He rubbed his eyes. “There’s not much that I haven’t heard, Collin. You’re not going to shock me.”
Their eyes met.
I’m going to need more. Collin didn’t drop his gaze, but he also didn’t say anything.
“I’m not trying to impress anyone,” Broderic said softly. “I don’t care to. But my story is that there is a better story that can be found. It’s a quest, my quest.
“Why do we as humans tell fantasy stories? It’s because fantasy stories as a genre are honest. Fucked-up landscapes, visible demons, big scary monsters, beautiful loves everyone wants, plain little people who are ignored until they do something. Prophecies of hope and doom. Fantasy is us but more raw, more vivid. It’s where we can deal, as a species, with what we try to ignore in real life. Normal is the facade of expected and plain, the safe and predictable—maybe—that we wrap ourselves in as a society for a variety of reasons. It’s probably one of the least honest things that can be found. But many people cling to it because looking past it in their own lives and the lives of those close to them is too scary. But if we believed that we were heroes or adventurers, if we had the resources of a fantasy-game character, if we believed in magic, then we could deal. I believe in magic.”
Collin opened and closed his mouth a few times. “Magic?”
“Yes.” Broderic nodded. “Have you ever seen Lord of the Rings?”
“Yes.”
“Beautiful story. It works really well. There’s lot of magic in that story. But it’s mostly human magic, not magic magic. The hobbits are the best part. When Frodo is walking into Mordor, he has his friend with him—his best friend—right?”
“Sam, yeah. He makes potatoes.”
“Yes. Sam the gardener. Very ordinary man, er, hobbit. Frodo has this really heavy burden, and he’s getting sicker and sicker, right?”
“Yeah. The ring.”
“The ring is really evil. It’s whispering a certain kind of story and offering a certain kind of temptation. We could find any number of current, real-world placeholders for the ring. And Frodo is breaking down.”
“Sam carries him.”
Broderic’s face broke open in a smile. “Yes, he does. And that’s the fantasy. That’s the beauty. That’s the human magic. Because it’s highly accessible magic. It’s magic that can and does happen, in our world, today.”
“Like Mr. Reevesworth finding me on the floor.”
“Precisely. Now, if Frodo was sitting in your seat right now, he could look at me and tell me some really terrible things. He could tell me that he thought about killing his best friend when that ring was around his neck. He could tell me that he left friends behind to protect them but one of them still died. He could tell me that the world was going to fall apart if he failed and that he failed. He could tell me that once he got home that he was never able to be himself again. He could talk about orcs and being captured by spiders and having his will taken from him by the ring on Mount Doom. Terrible things. It wouldn’t shock me. He’d be safe to talk here. I wouldn’t run. I wouldn’t look at him in horror. And I’d still be fine when I went home and went to bed.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t play in normal, Collin. And I don’t live normal. I live human. And I believe in humans. So yes, you can tell me anything. Tell me if there were days when you wished your mom would give up and die. Tell me that you’re pissed at your dad for being gone.”
“I could tell you that I expect my grandfather to kill me?”
“Yes, you could tell me that.”
“That there are times when I want to be Émeric’s kitten and never be a man again?”
“Yes, you could tell me that.”
