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Why Bother?
Braden
Irunmysweatypalms over the top of my thighs.This was easier when Maia was with me.
Dr. Jim gives me a smile. “Nothing to be nervous about. Remember, you’re used to how this works.”
“Yeah, but now it’s just me. I don’t have a buffer anymore.”
“You mean someone to distract from the main things we should focus on.”
Cool, just call me out, then. All right.
“Yeah. That.”
Dr. Jim nods. “What you’re doing here isn’t easy. Everyone would do it if it were easy. And not stigmatized, but that’s another thing entirely.” I smile at that. “I have an idea of where to start, something to hopefully ease us into all this.”
“Okay.”
“When you were here with Maia, this came up on several occasions. Each time, I made a note to come back to it. You’ve said your father was hard on you, had high expectations of you. I’d like to hear more about that.”
I give a slight nod. “It wasn’t just me. It was my brother too. Don’t get me wrong. My dad isn’t a bad guy. He loves us. It’s not like he was being abusive or anything. He’s just strict and wants us to do well in life, I guess.”
“But he’s hard on you. Both you and your brother…”
“Brent. Yeah. He’s seven years older. I watched him struggle with the same issues with my dad growing up. He was always focused on keeping us on the right path. He didn’t want us to end up—well, like me, I guess. Everything from fights on the playground to bad grades to not working hard enough would lead to him yelling or giving some speech about doing better. Every time I heard those words, I wanted to push back. Like he was saying I wasn’t good enough as I was. So, why bother trying? I saw everything he wanted me to be as the end of an enjoyable life. I leaned into partying because it was fun. No responsibilities. I felt like I couldn’t fail if I wasn’t trying.” The words tumble out, surprising me more with each one.
The realizations that come with those words hit hard, one punch to the gut after the other. Not measuring up or being enough is a trigger for me. Running from all pressure or responsibility is how I’ve reacted.Son of a bitch.I know I did it with my parents. But how many times did I do that with Maia?Way too many. Shit.
“Did you just discover something about yourself?”
Eyes wide, I look at him.I wasn’t expecting that, but I probably should have been.“Yes.” I tell him all the thoughts running through my mind. “I don’t want to be that way ever again. I don’t want to do those things again. I—I really hate who I was sometimes.”
He looks at me thoughtfully. “I’ve watched you here in therapy with Maia. You’ve apologized and sought forgiveness from her frequently, and she gives it to you. You’ve mentioned that relationships with many other people in your life are healing in similar ways. They’ve all forgiven you. But have you forgiven yourself, Braden?”
My gaze drops.Have I?
“Had you forgiven yourself last year? When you finally returned home. Did you ever forgive yourself for leaving, for the mistakes you made?”
That’s an easier answer. “No. I didn’t know how to. I didn’t feel like I deserved to. I felt—still feel—guilty.”
“And when you focus on that guilt, how does it make you feel? How does it make you want to act?”
I stare at him, blinking slowly. “It makes me feel like I don’t deserve the people in my life, the love I have. I feel like I’m constantly trying not to mess up because I’ve already messed up enough. I feel like—” I stop short and look at him. He nods for me to keep going.Fucking mind reader.I guess that’s kind of the point. “I feel like I’m not enough, can’t be enough. That triggers me. I spiral. Wow. I—” I stop talking. Because I can’t. The weight of all this is heavy on my chest. Like a fucking mountain. A mountain of dumb decisions and feeling like they made me worthless. Thatishow I felt—completely worthless. I felt like I didn’t deserve to be loved and everyone else saw the worst in me.Why bother?God, how many times did I think that in the last year?
Emotion crests in my chest, and I try my hardest to keep tears from spilling out. I know this is a safe space or whatever, but I really don’t want to cry here. He hands me a box of tissues, anyway. I must look as shitty as I feel.
“Forgiving yourself is important. When you forgive yourself and move forward, you stop the cycle. When you trust the people in your life, let them in, believe you deserve their love, you free yourself up to take small steps, make mistakes, and keep growing rather than trying to force yourself to be the person you think you’resupposedto be.”
“That’s what I want to do. I’m trying.” I breathe out.Who would’ve thought forgiving myself would be so hard to do?
“This is where we work together to find healthy coping mechanisms for dealing with the emotions surrounding what you’ve been through and any negative self-talk you might have.”
“Other people feel this way?”Shit. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.I probably sound like an idiot.
But he responds in the same calming voice he always uses. “Yes. More people than you might realize. Negative self-talk is extremely common. And forgiving oneself is something that many people find challenging. One of the most important parts of learning to forgive yourself is to separate who you are as a person from the mistakes and decisions you made. They do not need to be synonymous with you.”
I swallow hard, trying to push down the nausea in my stomach. He continues on, explaining helpful coping mechanisms and techniques and even gives me a few sheets with more detailed ways of using them for me to take. Listening to him describe them, I hope they can help. I knew how I was feeling, but until now, I didn’t know why. And it’s a lot to come to terms with.
