12. Psychoanalysis

“Psychoanalysis is in essence a cure through love.”
~Sigmund Freud

My father and Anna decided that it would be best if they left quite early, in order to avoid the heat and the traffic jams. I could totally relate to them. The day seemed that it would be the hottest of the entire summer. So, being on the road along with angry and impatient drivers wouldn’t be ideal.

Eugene and I helped them to put their stuff in the car and around nine o’clock in the morning, they had already left. Basically only Aaron and I were home, since my brother and his girlfriend decided to spare us their presence and continue their sleep and relaxation. Not everyone was crazy like me to wake up before the sunrise!

The problem was that now I had plenty of time, with nothing in particular to do, and a step-brother who seemed ready for a fight. I wonder what took him so long!, the little voice inside my head whispered.

We were both in the kitchen. Aaron had made a tomato, carrot and apple juice and he was eating oatmeal with milk. Trying not to laugh, I started cleaning the kitchen table, leaving only my glass of orange juice and Aaron’s breakfast.

“So do you cook only for the others?” he asked and he took a sip of that indescribable juice.

“What do you mean?” I asked back, even if I knew where that conversation was going.

“I mean that you’re trying to fill the emptiness inside you by taking care of the members of the family,” he said seriously.

“And did you figure that out by one single breakfast?” I asked, looking as indifferent as I could; even if I was boiling inside.

“Of course not. Your behavior shows more than what you think it does,” he went on, with the same serious tone in his voice.

“I hadn’t realized that my behavior was showing that I was in need of some psychoanalysis at nine in the morning. Don’t you have anything better to do? You can always keep up with that horse diet of yours, for instance,” I replied angrily. He had done it once more.

“To be honest, I have a meeting with a real estate agent, but that’s in the afternoon. So, we can keep up with you,” he said, while an ironic smile was covering his face.

“I believe that if the patient doesn’t want to be examined, there’s no need for psychoanalysis,” I replied and I stood up.

“Or the patient is simply in denial, like you,” Aaron said.

I started walking towards the exit of the kitchen silently, but suddenly he caught me.

“At least, you should know that your toxic relationships have turned you into what you are,” he whispered.

“There’s nothing more toxic than the coexistence with you,” I said and I felt the vitriol coming out of my mouth.

As I was walking out of the kitchen, I was expecting from him to come and continue talking about denial, toxicity and all that psycho stuff, but he didn’t do so. I knew what he wanted to tell me.

Yes, I was denying to believe that it had been ten years since my mother died, but I had got used to live without her.
Yes, I was trying to take care of my father, Eugene and Anna, after everything they had done for me the first three years after the accident.

I remembered all those nights I was waking up, covered in sweat, with my heart beating furiously because I was feeling hemmed in inside my own bedroom.
I remembered that I was feeling nervous and I was shaking every time I was getting inside the car because I was thinking that we’d have a car crash and we’d die.

But I had evolved since then. I wasn’t anymore that twelve-year-old who feared even the sight of an ambulance or the sound of a siren. Nonetheless, I didn’t know anyone who didn’t have remnants after such a traumatic experience.

And as for the toxicity… Yes, I knew who was toxic for me. I could smell them from a mile away. But that didn’t mean I could always protect myself from them. I could choose to keep them away from me after I had learned from my mistakes. And that’s what I would do with Michael.

The thing is though that Aaron shouldn’t have a say in that. What did he know about love? He wasn’t talking with his mother for four years, for crying out loud!
What did he know about personal relationships? When was the last time he had fun? Or even sexual encounter? That would explain why he always seemed to be on edge.

Thinking about that, I smiled. At least, I knew what I would say next time he would talk about my problematic relationships. Besides, he had said that he would not intrude again. Apparently, someone else is in denial! I thought while I was going upstairs.

© Victoria Moschou. All Rights Reserved 2016-2017.


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