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“How are things now?”
“We argue a lot. Honestly, I don’t know why he keeps coming back. I don’t know why I take him back.” She paused. She had decided to see her therapist for a reason. It was time to be brutally honest. “I think he’s seeing another woman.”
Jalane tilted her head slightly, waiting for Colleen to continue.
“I know I should break up with him, but sometimes I think I can’t do any better. Listen to me.” She slapped her hand on the armrest. “I don’t take shit from anyone, and I let him walk all over me.” She put her hands over her eyes, covering her face in embarrassment. She hated to admit that she couldn’t stand up for herself with Brian.
“Colleen?”
Colleen pulled her hands away and lifted her chin to Jalane.
“Do you have an active sex life with him?”
Going through the motions of a sex life was a better way to describe it. She was flooded with shame because she never felt confident about having sex. She’d struggled getting out of her head to enjoy it and had been called frigid by a few men.
“Do you have an active sex life with him?” Jalane asked again.
Colleen wrapped her arms around her waist. “If he wants sex, we have sex.”
“Is it satisfying to you?”
“Not really,” Colleen answered in a hushed voice. This question went to the deep-seated wound she thought had healed. It had been covered by a scab, but it was exposed again.
“Are you able to have an orgasm?”
She glanced away. “Not very often, and only if I masturbate.” She and Jalane had discussed this in great detail, but it was never easy for Colleen. Maybe it would always be this way, and she’d just have to accept it. “I never fake an orgasm, but I don’t think he ever pays attention.”
Jalane’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry, Colleen. I know how hard you’ve worked on this part of your life.”
“I think I’ve regressed.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Colleen leaned her head back for a moment. No, she definitely did not want to talk about it. It was grueling, soul-searching work to dig deep and expose her raw feelings. She’d done it once before, and now she would have to dig even deeper. The idea of opening those old wounds again was depressing. “I worked hard to put all this stuff behind me. I don’t want to go through it all over again.”
“Why not?”
Colleen took a long pause. She was filled with not only shame, but also frustration and anger she’d tried so hard to work through. “Talking about it again makes me feel like a victim.”
“No one is calling you a victim.” Jalane’s voice was calm and even. “You’re a survivor.”
Colleen nodded, holding back her tears. She did not feel like a survivor. A survivor was someone who confronted a difficult situation with courage and didn’t back down. She’d been avoiding the truth by shoving down all this shit, but it had bubbled to the surface anyway.
“It’s important to remember recovery is never final. Just when you think you’ve resolved your abuse issues, a significant event—such as your father’s death—can reawaken past trauma. Seeing your abuser at the funeral was bound to trigger painful memories.”
Colleen gave a small nod, wiping away a few tears as she recalled his ogling expression when Mr. Pike saw her.
“Your reaction is normal, and your feelings can be managed. But you need to be kind to yourself and allow those feelings and emotions to surface. Does this make sense?”
“Yes,” Colleen answered in a quiet voice. Through therapy, she learned her desire to achieve was connected to a deeper need to please others. Toss in a strong perfectionist streak into her psychological goodie bag and it was no surprise that being kind to herself was a big challenge.
After a few moments, Jalane said, “Now, tell me about this other man; the family friend that came to the funeral. What’s his name?”
“Finn O’Connor.” Just saying his name brought to mind his blue eyes and sexy smile. “As a kid, he and his family came out to LA from New York every summer. I had a big crush on him. His father went to prison for a real estate investment scandal and I never saw him again.”
“Until the funeral.”
“Yeah. He and his mom came.”
