The world is chaotic and cold. No love to give and no warmth to feel. It was easy to live in that kind of world when it was the environment you were raised in-it's just sad for the ones who were thrown into the mix without warning.
The only advice...
She'd come to terms with the fact she needed to stop thinking about the past, but that was hard when the past revolved around this one person who couldn't leave her the hell alone.
Therapy was helping, though. She was glad she actually had a therapist who cared about her growth and her in general. They've progressed to expressing emotions and that was something Zuri and problems with, nonetheless, Dr. Akama had brought back the journal. Same thing in the beginning, write down thoughts, feelings and events and they'd touch base on it at the end of the week and she'd give Zuri advice.
"You said you remembered something from when you were younger..." Therapist said as she read off the sheet of paper in Zuri's journal.
Zuri nodded her head, shifted on the couch.
"What was the memory? I want to hear about it." She sat straight up in her brown leather chair positioned infront of Zuri.
Zuri tugged at one of her braids. She'd been rocking plaits for awhile and she could honestly say they were cute, but they also kept her from cutting and pulling out her own hair at times.
"It...it was from my childhood." Was the only answer Zuri gave and Dr. Akama could understand why. Some could visibly see when ones childhood or upbringing brought them to a point of no return. Zuri was slowly falling into that pit and that's where Dr. Akama came into the equation. To pull her away from the ledge.
Dr. Akama decided to not speak, seeing the distant look on her clients face. She would hope Zuri took her silence as a form to continue.
"My dad, Jerome, he was...I don't know what he was but he always told me "I need you to see me as a mentor and not a father." He told me the real world was gonna eat someone like me up so he trained me to be defensive, have my guard up, and always stay ten toes on top." Zuri chuckled. She felt like one of her dads many projects growing up and since her mother wasn't around to stop it, he did it and Zuri had no say.
"And how does that make you feel? To this day, what do you wish you could say to him that you couldn't say back then?" Dr. Akama was trying to dig deep. Zuri was very careful with her words and the way she expressed herself. Too careful, and now Dr. Akama understood why.
Zuri looked at her therapist with a dead look. "I feel nothing, never have and never will. As far as I'm concerned, I've made peace with the fact my dad will never actually be that. My dad. Time has past and lord knows we can't get that back. I'm 20 years old, I don't need him."
Dr. Akama nodded her head and pulled out her notepad, noting down her thoughts and a few things her client said.
Note: patient in next step of grief and pain—denial.
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Zuri walked into the barbershop and was greeted by a few of her coworkers. In return she gave them a small smile and wave. She had been recently looking for a second job. She knew the checks and tips from the shop weren't cutting it and bills were tearing her down. Having two jobs wasn't a big deal. In high school she worked as a cashier at Walmart and was also and still working at the barbershop which is how she obtained her apartment and car.
