Date: Fri, 23 Feb 2007 18:34:02 -0800 (PST)
From: Lusty <lustyville@yahoo.com>
Subject: Starving For Love-Part 3. Therapy 101

     I am an idiot. The only person I want to love me does and I
don't want him to. Something in my mind is screwed up and it's
causing me to push him away. I need to fix it but what if I fix
it and we get together and he doesn't stay with me. I can't lose
him. I won't lose him.

     My mother and I ride to the doctor's office without
exchanging a word, but why would she want to talk to me about
anything? I was a reminder that something at home wasn't right
and I was the reason for the family's imperfection.

     She parks the car and we both get out, but she walks about
twenty feet in front of me so it is hard to tell we are together.
I can't blame her though because I wouldn't want to be seen in
public with me either. Hell, if I was her I'd ship me off to some
boarding school so I didn't have to look at me at all.

     I know she was happy when I was away at the clinic. She was
probably relieved each morning when she woke up and realized she
was free of me for another day. I must make her feel like a
failure. I wish she didn't take it personally. I wish she knew
that the problem is me. It's all me.

     She's already sitting down in a chair reading a book when I
walk in to the waiting room. I go to the receptionist and
officially check in. She knows me on sight now, but I like to
check in anyway. She smiles at me and asks about my week and I
tell her it was okay. I always tell her it was okay but I'm sure
she knows it wasn't. If all of my weeks were okay I wouldn't have
to come see Dr. Conley so often. I sit down in a seat across from
my mother so everyone in the waiting room doesn't know I'm
related to her because she shouldn't be forced to admit she gave
birth to me. It's bad enough she has to bring me to this place. I
watch her reading her book but I try not to stare. I almost feel
jealous of the book because the book captivates her attention in
a way I never could.

     The receptionist calls my name and my mother doesn't even
look up from her book. The doctor said one day, when I was ready,
I should have a group session with my family. I think we both
knew that day was well in the future.

     I walk back to the area where his office is and I walk in.
He says hello and asks me how I'm doing and I say hello and plop
down on the classic red leather shrink couch. When I first
started coming to him, I joked that he should be original and get
a different color couch but now I kind of like it even if I won't
admit it to him. This is his third red couch since I've been
coming to see him in this office. I look at him and he's doing
his usual avoidance tactic because he knows I get uncomfortable
when he stares at me. His fingers dance across the top of the
brass name plate on his desk that says: DR. CONRAD LEYLAND. He
understands that I'll either say something or we'll sit here in
silence until my time is up. He doesn't complain because either
way he gets paid.

     "Dr. Conley," I say.

     He looks up at me then grabs his pen. "Yes Sam."

     "Something happened last night." I know I should continue
but I wait for him to respond.

     "Oh."

     "Someone told me they loved me and it scared me."

     "Why did it scare you?"

     "The person kissed me."

     "And that was scary because?"

     "I wanted him, um, them to do it. I mean I really wanted it,
but when it happened I freaked." I hope he didn't catch my
secret. My tongue said the word before I could correct it, but I
could have easily misspoken. People say the wrong words all the
time.

     "How did you freak?"

     Okay, good. He wasn't listening well enough. He didn't catch
it. "I didn't want to talk to the person anymore. I just wanted
to go to sleep and when I woke up in the morning I left as
quickly as I could. I don't know why I did it. I should have
stayed and talked to the person, but I don't understand how they
can love me. I mean look at me."

     "What do you think is wrong with you?"

     "The same thing that has always been wrong with me; I'm
ugly."

     "Well if you're ugly, why does he, I mean, why do they like
you?"

     He just slipped and said `he,' was that intentional? Does he
know? "I think they think they can make me better if they love me
harder, but they can't help me. I have to help myself, right
doctor?"

     "Right, but you shouldn't turn down support because you're
going to need all the support you can get."

     "I know, I know. I'm going to have a lifelong battle with my
body image and although it may get easier as the years pass, I'll
never be fully recovered." Dr. Conley opens his mouth but I don't
want to hear what he is going to say. "Please don't say anything
Dr. Conley." He makes a note. "What did you write?" I ask.
"Forget it, I know you're not going to answer that." I want to
tell him that my mystery person is Tom but I don't want him to
know my secret. "I can tell you anything, can't I?"

     "Of course. This room is free of judgments."

     "The person who kissed me was, was, was, um."

     "Someone really close to you."

     "Yeah."

     "Someone who you think will change the way I see you if I
know who they are?"

     "Yes."

     "Nothing you tell me will change the way I see you. I am
here to help you deal with every aspect of your life, not just
the anorexia, because anorexia is a manifestation of something
deeper."

     "But what if I tell you something that makes me even more of
a reject? Something that confirms I can't be normal no matter how
hard I try? Won't that mean my time here has been for nothing?" I
play with my silver ring that Tom gave me.

     "Your time here is not for nothing. Your time here is
designed to equip you with the skills you need to take better
care of yourself and to give you a safe place to openly discuss
anything you would like. Now as far as you being normal, the only
person keeping you from feeling like a normal person is you.
There is nothing wrong with you. You look like a normal teenager
to me."

     "A normal teenager with dyed black hair and black clothes?"

     "Okay, a normal rebellious teenager looking for a way to
express your individuality while at the same time attempting to
protect yourself by hiding behind an image that makes you
uncomfortable."

     "My image doesn't make me uncomfortable."

     "Then why are you ashamed of it?"

     "I don't know."

     "There's nothing wrong with the way you dress."

     "Right and next you'll tell me there's nothing wrong with
gay people."

     "Why do you think there's something wrong with gay people?"

     He always wants my opinion. It used to drive me crazy but I
know what to expect now. "It's not normal."

     "Who says so?"

     "The whole world except you apparently."

     "So you believe you should live your life trying to appease
the whole world?"

     "Is that a trick question?" He was trying to get me to admit
I was gay.

     "No, it's not a trick."

     "Well what do you mean?"

     "Would you rather make the whole world happy or make
yourself happy?"

     "Would the whole world like me better if I made it happy?"

     "Well what do you think?"

     "I don't think I can ever do enough to make the world like
me."

     "If that's true then why do you put so much stock in to what
others think about you?"

     "I don't know." I stop to think about why I want the world's
approval so desperately but that quickly turns in to an assault
on me. I don't deserve the world's approval. I'm too much of a
loser for that.

     A few moments of silence pass before Dr. Conley asks, "Are
you ready to tell me more about the kiss?"

     My thoughts went back to the moment before the kiss and the
conflicting emotions I had as Tom's lips pressed against mine.
Say it. Say it. Just say it. "It was Tom." His expression doesn't
change. I feel myself calming down. I told him and nothing
happened. He didn't stand up and walk out of the office in
disgust and he didn't send me away.

     His response was simple. "I figured it was him."

     "Why?"

     "You talk about him often and you usually smile a lot when
you say his name. He makes you very happy and I know he means a
lot to you."

     "He does mean a lot to me. He's my only friend. Some days
he's the only person who talks to me. That's why I don't want him
to do this to himself."

     "To do what to himself?"

     "To be, you know, that way, because of me. I'm not worthy of
his love and I don't want him to ruin his life. Being like that
is like the kiss of death, especially for someone like him. You
know? He's a great guy and lots of girls like him. He should be
with one of them because that's how his future is going to be
anyway. He's too normal to stay with someone like me."

     "Will you answer one question for me?"

     "Depends on what the question is but please don't ask me if
I'm that way." I understand admitting I'm gay is a mere formality
at this point, but I still don't want to have to confirm it out
loud. I am content with it being an unspoken fact proven by my
other admissions. I mean I couldn't love Tom the way I claim to
love him and be straight, so it was already out there. I didn't
need to say it.

     "What scares you more: having someone you love, love you in
return or the possibility of losing someone you love?"

     "Losing someone I love."

     "You answered that rather quickly."

     "It is the one thing I fear most. I couldn't handle losing
Tom." Tom was my rock. He was the one reason why I attempted to
eat instead of allowing myself the pleasure of starvation which
according to the doctors would leave me emaciated and weaken my
organs until they failed me and I died. I never saw myself as too
skinny even when the doctors showed me photographs of other
people my size. I would look at the photographs and be disgusted
by the images in front of me, but I was unable to see myself as
one of them. One time the doctors tricked me and had a photograph
of me in the picture. It was strange. I was horrified by the
frailty of the person in the photograph until I realized it was
me then I was able to see the fat that the doctors had
overlooked. I told Tom about it and he told me my first reaction
was probably the most accurate, but what does he know.

     "Did you tell Tom how you feel?"

     "How could I? He said he loved me."

     Dr. Conley's normal stoic expression faded and I saw the
confusion on his face but he quickly regrouped, "You can't tell
him you love him because he told you he loved you?"

     "No. I can't tell him I love him because I don't want him to
know."

     "Can you put in to words why you don't want him to know?"

     "Honestly? I think it's easier to protect myself from the
way I know things will end then it is to take a risk and be with
him. Too much of who I am is defined by my friendship with him. I
mean who am I really if I'm not Tom's friend? I thought about
that a lot when I was trying to push him away. You remember that
period in my life. The only conclusion I could come to was that I
need him. I know I'll fall apart without him."

     "We talked about your dependence on Tom for your happiness
and what did we conclude?"

     "I know. I know." I remembered that discussion quite
vividly. Dr. Conley thought I was too dependent on Tom. He didn't
understand then, and he certainly doesn't understand now. "Do you
think it is unhealthy for me to be with Tom because I'm so
dependent on him?"

     "Is that what you think?"

     "No."

     "Okay, so why won't you allow Tom to love you the way you
both want him to? Does changing the boundaries of your friendship
make you uneasy?"

     "Yes."

     "Do you realize you've given me a different answer each time
I ask you that question?"

     "You only asked me that question one time."

     "I have asked you that question more than once. Granted the
wording was different, but the core of the question did not
change."

     "Are you trying to confuse me?"

     "No, I'm trying to get you to admit the real reason why a
relationship with Tom scares you."

     "I thought I answered that question already."

     "Have you really answered the question?"

     I hate when he tries to get me to be introspective and find
some great answer within myself. If I knew all the answers I
wouldn't be here. Tom was a silly fantasy that I had to get out
of my head before anything happened, although I would have given
anything for something to happen between us. I guess I am crazy.
Something did happen between us and I stopped it. I could have
had Tom the way I wanted him and I turned him away. That's just
more proof that something is wrong with me. I can't wait to go
home and, hmm, which should I do tonight? The whole Tom thing is
getting to me. Maybe I should draw another line. Yeah, that would
make me feel better. Hmm. I wonder if Dr. Conley suspects what I
do at home. I don't think he has a clue. He would try to talk to
me about it if he did. He must not know. I look at the clock. At
least I didn't have to talk about food today.

     Dr. Conley sat in his chair and scribbled some more notes
while I waited for our session to end. When my time was up, I
thanked him for listening and he told me to think about my answer
and tell him during our next session.

     My mother led the way to the car as I trudged along behind
her. She did not ask me about my session. She didn't care.

     Tom was sitting in his car waiting outside my house when I
got home. My mother waved to him and walked in the house. I
stopped at his car and got in the passenger seat.

     "What are you doing here?"

     "Nobody was home so I decided to wait."

     "Okay, but why are you here?"

     He smiled. "I thought we could hang out, as friends, of
course."

     "That's cool. What do you want to do?" I wanted him to lean
across the seat and kiss me and tell me that he wanted to spend
the day kissing me, but I knew that would never happen.

     "I rented some movies if you want to watch them."

     "Here or at your place?"

     "Doesn't matter."

     "Let's go to your place. I still like your family better."

     "I figured you'd say that. My mother is making dinner now."
I don't know why I did it, but I kissed him on his cheek and he
blushed.

     "Thank you. For everything," I said.

     "Feel free to thank me like that anytime." He started the
car and we left my house without me telling my mother I was gone.
She probably didn't even notice I was missing until I returned
that night.

Copyright Lustyville 2007
Please send comments to lustyville@yahoo.com and check out my
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