Runaway Love

I sat in the waiting area, wondering why I agreed to this. Why I agreed to talk to a stranger about my biggest secrets and regrets. I stared at the pattern in the fibers of my jeans and was tempted to get up and leave. I jump when I hear

someone call my name.

"Joselyn?" A tall man sounds again from a door beside the intake desk.

"That's me, sorry." I apologized, grabbing my purse and walking towards him.

"No worries, I'm Dr. Steven Darling. Here we are, please go ahead and take a seat.

I entered the room and took it in. The walls were white, with a burgundy wall to the left. His desk and bookshelves were sitting there. On the wall where the door was a couch, and further down a set of drawers and a potted tree in the corner. The wall after the corner continued for about half the room and then it opened to large windows which took up the fourth wall also. The view was beautiful, overlooking a lake and mountains. The couch faced three chairs and an area rug with a table in the middle.

I took a seat in the corner of the couch and put my purse in what little bit was left of my lap. I took a deep breath and took the doctor in as he took a seat across from me in a chair. He had dark brown hair and a dark tan which only accented his light blue eyes. He pulled a pad of paper and a pen into his lap.

"Have you done any kind of therapy before?" He asked, crossing his left leg over his right and leaning back in the chair.

"No, this would be my first time."

"Well, I would like to get to know you, and the best way to do that is to start with your childhood and work our way forward. Once I get a feeling for you, we can go back to different areas of your life that need to be discussed and opened so you can heal." He suggested.

"Ok, so where in my childhood do you want me to start?"

"Where you want."

"Ok, so um I had a fairly normal childhood. My parents were middle class, always had enough for food and care and stuff, but not a ton for a fancy lifestyle. I know they loved me and they were happily married. I'm an only child, I did well in school and played lacrosse. Nothing scary or traumatic happened." I started, unsure what information he was looking for, when he stayed quiet I kept rambling.

"I had my first boyfriend when I was in high school. It was Oliver."

"The same Oliver who you are with now?" He clarified.

"Yes, I thought, well I guess, think is more appropriate, that I found my soulmate. He was my everything. He was perfect back then. He was a few years older than me, but he took our relationship slowly. So slow that sometimes I pushed for more. He was my first.

During my junior year, I found out that he was enlisting. We both agreed that we could make it and that we didn't want our relationship to end. He was supposed to meet me, but he never came. I had gotten a message earlier saying he wouldn't and didn't want to stay together, but I didn't believe him.

When I got home Josh was there waiting for me. He comforted me and checked in on me as I regained a new sense of normal. I didn't hear from Oliver again, so I moved on. Josh and I had become close, like best friends. I knew that I would never love again like I had Oliver, so when he asked me to marry him I said yes."

"And Josh is your ex-husband, correct?"

"Yes. At first, he was perfect. He doted on me, always bringing me different gifts. If you had told me I'd be here 5 years later, I would have laughed in your face and called me crazy. It wasn't until after two years that I started to sense a change.

He was more short-tempered and his anger became more aggressive. He had started drinking more. Little things would set him off, and sometimes it seemed there was no trigger, he was just angry to be angry."

"Is that when he started getting more physical?"

"Yes, at first he just yelled a lot and insulted me. After we fought he would apologize and seem really sweet. That would last until the next big fight and just keep cycling. Looking back there were all of the obvious signs and hints of the relationship being dangerous. I'm not sure if I didn't see it, or if I just ignored it. You never think it would be you."

"Does that make you feel guilty?" He asked, his pen flashing across the paper.

I thought about the question. Unsure how to answer it, I closed my eyes and really thought about it. Did I feel guilty for not seeing the signs, or guilty because I saw them and ignored them.

"Yes, I never spoke up, never left. I was warned, but at the moment I was so caught up in everything that I could really think about it the way I do now. I was so much younger then, and naive. I believed him when he told me it wouldn't happen again. At first, I just kept telling myself he wasn't physical, he just yelled. I convinced myself that it was fine, and he would never hit me.

Then he did. I stood up to him and told him that he was being a shitty person. I was tired of his crap. I had a rough day and fought with my best friend. He just happened to be the trigger that fired my rage gun at the moment. He slapped me. He slapped me across the face and then just stared at me. He actually looked quite shocked that he did it.

He instantly fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around me, begging for forgiveness. That it would never happen again. He seemed so genuinely surprised that I said yes. The next week he treated me like I was glass. We went to my favorite restaurants, and he let me pick movies we watched. Then things returned to normal."

"But they didn't stay normal, did they?"

"No, things were good for a few months, and when he came home late after work one night drunk. He was mad because dinner wasn't warm. Like he expected me to know he was going to be late and going to be home at that time instead of his regular time with no call or text.

First, he threw a bottle of Jack at the wall and it shattered. Then he turned to me and started yelling and calling me names. I tried to stand up to him, calmly tell him that I just needed to warm it up, and it would only take a few minutes if he would just calm down. But that only made him madder.

He swung and his fist hit my head. It knocked me down and onto the broken glass. I cut my hands pretty bad. Before I could get up, he threw another punch, this one bloodied my lip. He took a step toward me and when I put my arms up to try to stop his punches he froze.

I looked up to him and it was like a switch had flipped. He looked at me surprised, shocked even. His eyes darted around the room and took it all in. He threw a sorry at me and ran to the bedroom.

I cleaned up the mess and bandaged my hand. When I entered the bedroom he was showered and dressed and passed out on the bed. I grabbed a pillow and blanket and slept on the couch. That was the first time he really showed me the darkness he was holding inside him." I said, clenching my hands into fists, I could almost feel the pain from the cuts even all these years later.

He flipped his notebook shut and put his pen down. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward on his knees.

"Joselyn, that was a good first session. You told me a lot. I know it's not easy, but you did very well today. I made notes of a few things I want to go back and look at when we get caught up, but I'm proud of what you've done today. The first step and noticing that help is needed and that reaching out. I know that Oliver and Sean pushed you to come, but you could have said no but you didn't. We'll meet next week, my assistant will reach out to you with a date and time." He said standing and walking with me to the door.

I took a deep breath and left, and heard him shut the door behind me. His assistant waved and gave me a card with a time and date. I looked at and nodded at the time that was written. I walked out to the car where Oliver was waiting. I smiled as I climbed in the SUV, and buckled as he backed out. We drove home in silence, as I thought overall that I had just talked about with the therapist. I had mixed feelings about the next appointment. I was excited to talk about it with someone who was neutral and didn't look like they were planning a murder, but the rest of my past only got darker.

I closed my eyes as I leaned my head against the window. I had survived it when it was happening, I can survive telling my story, I told myself creating a new mantra. I watched the trees pass as we drew closer to the house. I steadied myself with a deep breath and prepared myself to finish the day.