Alexis

Odio, Disprezzo, Detesta la Terapia di Gruppot

Hate, Despise, Loathe Group Therapy

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Love birds. What a very serious conviction. Because swans, a bird, mate for life, mostly. Other birds, not really. But a bird is a bird. So what happens when love birds consist of a beautiful white swan and a dark raven? While both might mate for life, they are just a tad too different.

Or, what if love birds consist of a beautiful white swan and a lonely vulture? While both mate for life, one is the epitome of beauty while the other is regarded as the Earth's garbage disposal/danger signal of death.

Or what if love birds consist of, again, a beautiful white swan and an unflyable hummingbird? One that mates for life and one that doesn't. And, in human emotions, since a hummingbird isn't necessarily monogamous, what happens when their partner (monogamous partner, that is) is ready to fly? But the hummingbird cannot fly. This hummingbird, although it normally can fly forward and back, up and down, has broken wings.

Or, without all the stupid metaphors, what happens when you feel so disconnected from the man you once wholeheartedly loved? You feel disconnected from a man that you still, somehow, feel connected to. Just barely.

I wish I was seeing David today instead of going to group therapy. I didn't love therapy, I barely liked it, but David wasn't involved in my relationship with Vincent. He could give me unblinded advice. Advice that no one else could because everyone else saw the bad. I saw the good. I saw more good than everyone else saw. But for David to understand that, I'd have to tell him the completed, unbiased version of our relationship. Maybe he could tell me why it was so hard to let him go.

Vincent didn't stay around on Monday. He left halfway, a little less than that, through and didn't say where he was going. He just said he'd be back. I expected him back that night but I hadn't seen him since. I wanted him to come back and I wasn't sure why because up until now, I was drifting from him. Yes, there was still a connection but I drifted enough for there to be distance. Enough for the rope connecting me to the dock to start to sink underwater. Sure, the ends were still connected and together but that tension was not as taut. Now, the rope dropped, covered in dark blue sea water.

I liked thinking about that as I walked to group therapy. I didn't want to think about group therapy. So stupid. I plan to speak as little as possible. I'd hope to not speak at all but the woman would probably make me say my name. I felt like I was able to get my mind off my dad and daughter and now I was smushed right back into a world of pain. I got my mind off of them for half an hour. I felt guilty for that. I felt that they deserved to have me think of them. How would they feel if they knew I didn't— which isn't true, I spend almost every second of my days thinking about them. If I died I would want my kids to think of me. My spouse. My family. The thought of being forgotten shook me to my core. It made me want to cry every time. It reminded me of the movie Coco. Such a sad movie. Sure, it's meant to be happy but in my mind, nothing was happy. Not anymore.

The building was next to a laundry house and an Asain place that smelled like sweet and sour chicken. I walked in. It was cold inside. The A/C was working overtime. It smelled like a high school gym after hours. I looked around. There was a door with a table on the outside. It was where I was supposed to be. I walked up to the table. Why did I have to check in? This is fucking retarded. I don't want to be here.

"Hi," the man behind the table smiled. I didn't smile back. "Are you Alexis? I heard you'll be joining us tonight." I nodded. "Awesome! We just need you to sign in and then make a name tag."

"I have to wear a name tag?" I asked, my voice flat.

"Well, if you would prefer not to, then you don't have to wear it. It's just so others can remember your name," he explained as I picked up a pen to print my name on the sheet.