The Acceptance of Change

Chapter 7: In Session.

After my episode, my foster family looked at me differently. With all of the other kids in the house, l was, for the most part, looked over. Which I honestly didn't mind, but after the episode, they paid more attention to me, but only with eyes of pity. I hated this attention so much, that even though they had good intent with their actions, I resented them for it. I spent more time alone in my room and tried my best to stay away from them.

One thing I couldn't escape from, was therapy. After what happened, even though I was on medicine, they wanted me to see a therapist. Which they probably had me do because of how I was spacing myself from them, so this was probably all my fault.

There was one day that I was with my therapist where she believed that she was close enough with me after only 2 other sessions mostly filled with casual talk, to talk with me about what the doctors believe is the cause for my condition.

My session began at 2 o' clock. Tuesday afternoon. I walked through thin glass doors into her therapist's office. Her name was Dr. Fritz, which I felt was ironic.

"Hello Jonas," Dr. Fritz said.

I didn't respond.

"I want to talk with you about the cause of your condition," she said.

I sat there in silence.

"What was your father like," she questioned. I felt as if I was being interrogated, as if I was being pushed into a corner.

My heart began to beat faster.

"He was a good man," I responded.

"How so?" She responded, questioning my fathers morals.

"He took care of me," I said sternly. I didn't want her to ask any more questions about my father, but I couldn't bring myself to speak for whatever reason.

"We have reports of child protective services being called to your house numerous times," she said.

"My father loved me," I said.

"The elementary and middle schools you attended reported constantly seeing you with bruises," she prodded.

"I played around in the backyard a lot, and I rode my skateboard a lot. I never wanted to use the protective gear because I thought it made me look lame," I responded. I believed I had won our little back and forth, until she responded.

"How about the cigarette burn that was found on you last year."

I stopped for a moment, unsure of how to respond. I felt a pressure begin to build inside of me.

"I was experimenting, a friend gave it to me and I dropped it on myself," I said.

"That's not what the report says," she said. With a pitiful tone. "The report says that you said that your dad accidentally dropped it on you, and that he quickly brushed it off and cared for the injury as best as he could. Now you're telling me that you were trying to smoke?"

She caught me in a trap, and the only way I knew how to get out of it was to break free.

"You know NOTHING about my father!" I yelled, with an almost crying tone.

"His friends reported him to be a heavy drinker and often saying terrible things about you," Dr. Fritz spoke with a pitiful tone once more.

"He must've been doing that for a good reason, he never would say anything like that about me, he LOVED ME."

Dr. Fritz sat there, with an unsatisfactory glare. Probably wondering what else she could say to me to get a reaction.

"Your father-"

"SHUT UP, SHUT THE HELL UP. YOU KEEP SAYING YOU KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT MY FATHER, BUT YOU KNOW NOTHING. YOU ARE SUCH AN ASS. POKING AND PRODDING ME, TRYING TO GET ME TO SAY SOMETHING DAMNING ABOUT HIM, THERE IS NOTHING-," I screamed.

I stopped because I suddenly got lightheaded. My face felt hot and I could feel a strong pulsating feeling on the top of my scalp. My face felt like it was about to pop.

"I'm leaving," I said. And walked out of the door.

I stomped quickly through the waiting room. They all glared at me like I was crazy, I assume they heard every word I said through those thin glass doors.

My foster dad was waiting for me in the car.

"I want to change therapists." I told my foster dad.

"What happened?" He said, with a concerned tone.

"I don't want to talk about it,"

"Ok."

I never ended up going to another therapist after that.