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I nodded, refocusing my attention on her face. The familiarity of her features centered me in the present. “Yeah, it helps. I’ve also been noticing my negative thinking more often. I catch it and logically question it like you told me to. It’s crazy how I tell myself negative shit all the time. Just an hour ago, I was thinking that I didn’t deserve to have a loving family like Ryder did.”
“Yes, those negative thoughts are very corrosive, but just catching and correcting those thought patterns is a very important step in the healing process.” She nodded encouragingly. “Remember, it takes time and practice to root them out.”
I sighed, feeling the weight of her words settle onto my chest. “It’s just ... really difficult sometimes. Like I’m fighting against myself, you know?”
“Absolutely,” she agreed sympathetically. “And that’s why we’re here, to help you develop the tools to overcome those challenges.”
She scratched something onto her yellow notepad and then looked up at the screen. “You’re making great progress with acceptance and analysis. We should start working on action plans soon, and eventually, we can broach the topic of forgiveness.”
My stomach dropped. “Forgiveness?” I repeated numbly.
“I know it’s a difficult concept, especially in your situation.” Her expression was gentle but resolute. “However, forgiving your abuser is an important step in healing from trauma. It doesn’t mean excusing their actions or forgetting what they did. It’s about releasing the burden of anger and hurt that you’re carrying so you can move forward with your life.”
I shook my head, panic and anger warring inside me. “I can’t forgive that bastard. What he did...” I sucked in a sharp breath, shaking with an effort not to break down. “He doesn’t deserve forgiveness.”
“You’re right, he doesn’t deserve it.” Maggie’s steady tone cut through my building hysteria. “But you deserve peace. Forgiveness is a gift you give yourself, not the other person. It’s about freeing yourself from the past so you can move on to a happier future.”
I slumped back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. I knew she was right, as much as I didn’t want to admit it. The rage I harbored was a cancer, eating away at me from the inside out. But forgiveness seemed impossible. Unattainable.
After a long moment of silence, I met Maggie’s patient gaze. “I don’t know if I can do it.” My voice sounded small and lost, even to my own ears. “Where do I even start?”
“I’ll help you through it, step by step,” Maggie urged gently, her voice a soothing balm against the whirlwind of emotions threatening to consume me. “We’ll work together to create a plan that feels right for you.”
“Okay,” I mumbled, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. I fiddled with the silver ring around my thumb, a nervous habit that seemed to soothe my racing thoughts.
As I stared back into Maggie’s unwavering gaze, I knew that this next phase of therapy would be the hardest yet. But with each step I took forward, a tiny spark of hope ignited within me that I could conquer my past and find peace at last.
“Now that you’re actively working through your thoughts and emotions, you need to remember all the strategies we’ve discussed to cope with triggers and anxiety.” Maggie smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Things like deep breathing, mindfulness practices, and physical exercise are very effective. If you’ve let that slide, now is a great time to revisit them. I’d also like you to review your safety plan, in case you have a panic attack or flashback.”
I was going to tell her that none of that stuff was necessary, that Remi kept me grounded, but I held back, considering Remi was leaving soon and who knew how I’d cope then.
With Remi always on my mind, it was only a matter of time before our conversation shifted to the tangled web that was my relationship with Remi and Greyson.
When Maggie asked about them, I swallowed hard, feeling the knots of tension forming in my stomach as I began. “I’m not sure how to navigate my feelings for them, especially since Remi is leaving the tour in a few days and heading back to be with Greyson.”
“Start by telling me what you feel when you think about each of them,” she suggested, leaning back in her chair and studying me intently.
“Remi is... intense,” I admitted, my mind filling with images of our passionate encounters. “There’s this raw, electric connection between us that I can’t deny. I’ve never felt that way about a woman.”
“And Greyson?” Maggie prompted, her fingers tapping against the arm of her chair.
“Greyson is ... different,” I murmured, my chest tightening as I thought about our passionate kiss. “I’m attracted to him, but it feels wrong. Dirty. Abnormal.”
Maggie listened closely, her eyes reflecting a deep understanding. “And if you removed those negative thought patterns?”
I released a shaky breath, raking a hand through my hair. “Then I’m attracted to him. But, I’m not gay.”
Maggie leaned forward in her chair, her gaze never leaving mine as she spoke. “Is that coming from you? Or are you thinking about your father when you say that?”
Her words were like a knife to the gut. I could see my father’s face, twisted and ugly, as he taunted me, calling me a faggot and telling me that I liked what those evil men had done after he’d been the one that sent them to my bedroom.
I swallowed hard, squeezing my eyes shut against the burn of tears. “I don’t know.”
Maggie’s eyes flickered with understanding. “Journaling is a great way to work through painful emotions and find clarity.” Her voice was soft and encouraging.
We sat in comfortable silence for a moment. I studied the lines of her face, the way her hair fell around her shoulders. She was the only person I’d ever truly let in, and I didn’t know what I’d do without her.
“During your next session, I’d like to dig a little deeper into your sexual identity. Eventually, I’d like to disconnect your sexuality from your past abuse.” Maggie’s voice was gentle but firm. “Give yourself permission to explore the topic in your mind and journal about it this week if you can. I’d like to discuss that and how your promiscuity relates to it all.”
