Mesmerized

catorce.

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Session three. I wasn't mentally prepared for it; my nerves were still shot from the week before and I tried my best to push my conversation with Mahdi to the back of my mind. He'd stayed with me for three hours, I didn't remember falling asleep, but I did know that no nightmares plagued my rest like I'd expected.

"Let's talk about tears and why you don't allow yourself to cry." Dr. Jade's pen was poised, ready to take notes. I'd told her about what happened at work and she seemed concerned about my reaction.

That was something that I knew the answer to. "It feels too raw; like I'd be showing all of my cards. I stop myself every time I feel myself beginning to tear up." She nodded, not writing anything.

"We need to work on this Arinze, tell me about the last time that you allowed yourself to cry." She said, watching me intently.

Images played in my mind like a bad home movie, "No." Dr. Jade nodded, she wrote something down then looked at me.

"We'll revisit that when you feel ready to, I think that whatever you've just remembered is the true cause of your emotional block. Telling me about it may be the only way for me to properly help you." She explained. "Let's move onto your brothers, they seem to be your support system."

I scoffed, she was right, but I'd regressed; no longer comfortable with sharing. "I don't want to talk about my brothers." I checked the clock on the wall, ten minutes left of my session.

"I see, can we talk about your job? Do you feel properly equipped to deal with that situation repeating itself?" She asked, trying to make the most out of our session.

My head hung as I shook my head. "I won't find out; I asked to be reassigned to the Pediatric Wing." I couldn't be in the Emergency Room after what happened, even sick children were easier for me to deal with; I didn't feel helpless there.

"Arinze." Dr. Jade started, "You have to find a way to process what happened, moving to a new department isn't the answer."

I didn't want to talk to her, I wanted to go home. "I'll deal with it; I just need time." I said honestly, feeling a crack in the wall that I'd spent so long building. "Time's up." I stood to my feet, grabbing my bag and preparing to leave but she stopped me.

"Continue journaling, it seems to be helping and I hope that you're in a better place for next week's session." Dr. Jade closed her notebook and stood to walk me to the door like she always did, "And Arinze? Don't stop yourself the next time that you want to cry; everyone needs that release."

I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek to refrain from a witty remark; I needed to remember that she was only doing her job. "I'll see you next week Dr. Jade." I ducked out of the room and straight to my brother's truck; they had set up a steady rotation so that I would never be alone, and it was Fiyero's turn to drive me back to my apartment.

"Caiga warned me about your salty disposition." He opened the door for me and helped me get in. "You're gonna talk to me or I'll take you to ma's."

My mouth hung open, unsure if he was bluffing or not. "Please Fi, I'm not in the mood for all of that." I held my head in my hands, feeling my shoulders sag.

"Look Ari, what happened was fucked up and none of us could possibly understand what that shift did to you, but this isn't healthy. You're taking your unhealthy behavior to a whole new level." Fiyero turned the truck off, setting the key on his dashboard.

I shook my head, not wanting to revisit the thoughts. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do Fi." I sighed hopelessly while turning to face him. "I'm stuck between feeling traumatized and feeling like I have no right to have any reaction to what happened."

My chest heaved as I opened up to my brother in a way that I couldn't with my therapist; at least not in my current mental state.

"It's going to take time Ari; you can't close yourself off; especially now that you've been making progress." He started the truck up and began to drive. I didn't reply to him, feeling like there was nothing to say. "I take it your session today didn't go well."

I'd been picking at my cuticles as I enjoyed the silence. "It didn't, I wasn't in the mood to talk to her."

"Did you at least listen?" Fiyero asked. I was left to ponder his question; the answer wasn't a black and white one.

We arrived at my apartment, I was grateful that I wasn't at my parents' house, "I don't think I gave her much to talk about but heard what she did say."

"But did you listen?" Fiyero chuckled, "I'll see you on Sunday. te amo, hermanita." He kissed my forehead.

I nodded; the gesture caused another crack to appear in my wall. "Y te amo, aunque no lo demuestre." (And I love you, even if I don't show it). I opened the door and hopped out of his truck. "Sunday."

He waved at me, then watched me open the front door before pulling off. I dragged myself towards the elevator, feeling completely drained yet again, silently hoping that it would get better sooner rather than later. I knew that I wanted to be better, but the road to get there was a difficult one; I'd been closed off for years and the idea of revisiting everything that I'd buried was daunting to say the least.

I had moments of weakness since my first session with Dr. Jade, it's the only way that I could describe them; almost breaking down at work was me being weak, calling Mahdi as though I needed a knight in shining armor was weak. Or maybe, just maybe pulling away again was the first and only sign of true weakness. I rushed to my room, locking the door behind me then pulled my journal out from its hiding place.

Weakness.

What is it? I'm sure that I've been feeling it for the past month but I'm not sure if I'm even right in labelling my feelings that way. Who am I? Who will I be once I see myself fully? I'm not convinced that I like her- the girl who almost cries, the girl who cares about people. It's hard to be that girl.

Dr. Jade asked me about the last time that I cried; how could I tell her that it was at a funeral ten years ago? When I watched Milo and Ale be buried. Maybe that was why those boys in the ER almost broke me. Maybe because I saw them die in front of me, just like my cousins did and continued to do. Or maybe it was the way that I lost myself, before, during and after that; the person I became to cope with every bad thing that happened to me after. Maybe it's because of what I did; what I almost did to myself. 

I shut the journal, unable to finish the thought; I imagined my emotions as physical objects and worked to stuff them into a trunk that was already too full to shut properly, but I would force it to. I was nowhere near ready to unlock my darkest memories, I wanted to be normal, even if it was just pretend.