Page 65 of Vivacity
‘Okay,’ I say, nodding.
‘When you can separate from your parts and find your Self, that’s when you can bring qualities like curiosity and compassion to them. There are eight of those Cs, in fact. Now, if you feel ready, I’d like you to try showing or telling him who you are.’
I stiffen. ‘How do you mean?’
‘Just that you’rehimall grown up—a fully grown adult—and that you can handle your father perfectly well, and that that memory has passed. It’s done, and he survived it. Your father can’t make you feel less than anymore, and you live anindependent life now. He doesn’t have to go back there again, and if he does, you’ll be with him.
‘What you’re trying to do here is divest him of this burden he’s been carrying around all this time, so that you gradually learn that when you’re in a situation where you feel you “can’t deliver” in the present day, that’s perfectly okay. You won’t be punished or frozen out, because you’re an adult, and it’s safe to fail. It’s human to fail. Does that make sense?’
I nod and inhale deeply. The little nine-year-old guy is still hugging me. I get the feeling he likes me being kind to him.It’s okay,I tell him. It feels awkward as fuck, but the tightness in my heart is giving way to a warm glow. It actually feels like my heart is expanding. I persevere.You don’t need to deal with Dad anymore. He can’t hurt your feelings. You’re a grown-up now, and you’re taller than him. You’re me.
He looks up at me, his skinny little arms still around my middle, and beams, and I find myself wishing my own son would look at me that way.
After a long silence, Philip speaks. ‘How did that go?’
‘Yeah. I think he kind of gets it. He seemed happier, anyway.’
‘Well done to him for sharing. That can’t have been easy. It might take time for him to grow to understand that fully, but perhaps you can hold him close this week, show him that you’re all grown up. Does he have anything else he’d like you to know?’
I think. The blankness is still there, but it feels lighter. Less ominous. ‘I don’t think so.’
I open my eyes.
‘You did very well.’ Philip cocks his head. ‘Very well indeed. Once your sceptical part agreed to take a seat, you really opened up. It seems like that little boy who was scared of failure very much needed to be heard.’
I nod, because I don’t have anything to add.
‘You know,’ he says, ‘if that instance of your father withholding love from you was in any way a regular occurrence, I suspect we’ll be hearing more from that part.’
I shift awkwardly in my armchair. I’ve been squeezing my wrist all this time. It’s sore, and the fingers gripping it are cramping. I realise it and give it a gentle rub instead.
‘Withholding lovesounds… aggressive,’ I say.
He shrugs and taps his glasses on his knee. ‘What would you call it?’
‘I don’t know. Um, emotional punishment? Freezing out?’
‘All characteristics of emotionally immature parenting.’ He states it as a fact. ‘And all indicative of a parent who makes their love conditional.’
‘My father’s a complex man. He’s very… outwardly focused. He hates being shown up in public. And yeah, he definitely had his own brand of teaching me a lesson.’ Still does, in fact. ‘But he’s not violent, you know? He never hit me or anything.’
Philip arches an eyebrow at me. ‘From what you’ve told me, it sounds like he didn’t need to.’
CHAPTER 29
Sophia
‘How did it go?’ I ask, handing Ethan a flute of champagne as soon as he reaches me. Dude is definitely deep in his sympathetic nervous system—he’s practically crackling with restless tension. He texted me from the car telling me he’d need a stiff drink as soon as he arrived, so I’m sure neat whiskey was more what he had in mind. You know, forty percent proof instead of ten percent.
Tough.
He wants to numb after laying himself bare?
He can binge on me instead of drinking through it.
We’re in a smaller junior suite today. The Jubilee Suite wasn’t available, which is fine with me. All we need is a bed, and this room is stunning, done out in the elegant neutrals and impeccable finish at which the Kingsleys excel.
I have to admit, I’m dying to know how it went. What he thought. How he found Philip, who I consider to be an actual genius. I’ve been thinking about Ethan non-stop for the past couple of hours, wondering and worrying and hoping that I did the right thing by pushing him towards IFS therapy. It’s not like I gave him much choice in the matter.
