Page 63 of Mangled Memory
“It could be control. I’d lose agency in my life. I had enoughof that with my dad. I grew up under his thumb. I don’t want that anymore.”
“We’ll get back to agency. Tell me about what you mean by ‘under your dad’s thumb’.”
“Exactly as it sounds.”
“Humor me.”
I meet Joanie’s shrewd eyes. “He made all the plans. He dictated behaviors. It was his house; we just lived there. He had an iron fist about how we acted, how we looked, what we studied, the manner in which we spoke. All of it. His expectations, which were lofty and unreasonable, were to be followed to the letter of the law. No matter what, we the props in his play, could not make the lead actor appear anything other than perfect.”
“That’s a hell of a statement.”
I lift my eyes to her. “I thought therapists weren’t supposed to have an opinion on these things.”
“Oh, we have opinions. Usually, I don’t comment. But what you just offered puts a lens on the world that’s worth acknowledging. I’m thinking that those glasses, if you will, have honed your vision to see a certain thing. Could that be possible?”
“Possible? Sure.”
“What lessons would your dad have taught you with that type of lifestyle?”
“The obvious ones… Look right. Act right. Speak correctly. Watch your tone, watch your words. Fit in. Be perfect. Worry about other’s needs, wants, expectations…”
“And on a deeper level?”
I spend some time with that question before answering. “To sacrifice my wants and needs for someone else’s. That I’m too much or not enough for almost everyone, because who can be all of that for everyone else. But mostly, to sit down and shut up.”
She makes that face that lets me know that I may be on to something. “Two things to think about as you leave here today. One, how did your brothers handle those dictates? Did they acquiesce or rebel? Do you love them any less or any more for their decisions? I’d ask you to ask those same questions toyourself. And two, how do you see those dynamics in your relationship with your husband?”
“I wish we had all day.” I say as my gaze returns to her from the clock on her desk. Its ticker is a metronome to my ears, only soft and lulling, not harsh and annoying.
“Nah. The best meals are not the ones you pick on all day. They’re the ones that you feast on and remember because you wish you could have that again for the first time.”
“The same vista is different moments later. You can go back day after day for a year and not capture the same feeling. The view is the same, but how it appears…”
“That’s a better analogy. I’d challenge you to check out some of the vistas in your life and see if the scene looks the same way day after day. Maybe there’s a different lens you could view it through.”
I thank Joanie and head to my car.
Me: I love you.
Liam: Who me?
Cian: She means me, asshole.
Liam: It’s obvious it’s about me.
Me: It’s both of you fools.
Liam: You okay, Ayla-girl?
Me: I’m going to be.
Cian: Always knew that.
Me: I miss you. You’re the best big brothers a girl could ask for.
Liam: Obviously she means me.
Cian: An obvious and an obviously in two minutes. I’m concerned.
