Chapter Ten #2
“How do you feel now that you know what happened?” Dr. Jeong says. I told her about the conversation I had with Doug last night. I didn’t mention why I called him, and I didn’t get into the nude photo issue. I just shared that I spoke to Ben’s friend and learned how he died.
“I’m relieved it wasn’t suicide,” I say.
“I’m glad he didn’t die because he felt hopeless or depressed.
But still, it’s awful to think of him dying this way too.
The way he died still feels—I mean, I guess there’s no way he could die that would feel okay.
It’s horrible no matter what, but this feels senseless. ”
She says, “It does feel senseless when someone dies unexpectedly from something like an aneurysm.”
“Yeah. It just seems, like, disturbingly casual. His life wasn’t finished.
It’s—I don’t know. It feels gross and absurd.
Though, to be honest, I’m struggling with talking to you so much about how I feel.
Do you know what I mean? Like, when I come here and we talk about my feelings, it seems sort of insensitive.
Like, Ben is dead. He can’t feel anything, and I’m just obsessively talking about my own thoughts and feelings.
It’s sort of sickening. It makes me hate myself. ”
She nods. “People often feel self-absorbed in therapy. I appreciate your opening up about that. The purpose is to explore your thoughts and feelings, though. That’s what we’re doing here. It’s important. It’s not self-absorbed to talk about yourself in therapy.”
I close my eyes and exhale. Maybe I’m just trying to avoid talking about how I feel. It would be nice if I could choose my own feelings. I wish that’s how it worked.
I grimace. “I feel very guilty about Ben.”
“I know you do.”
“I think I ruined his life.”
“You aren’t responsible for the trajectory of Ben’s life.”
I’m imagining what Ben’s life would be like if we stayed together.
He’d live in a nicer house. He’d take his kid fishing.
Maybe I would have told him to go to the doctor for his headache, and they would have caught the problem.
Or maybe he wouldn’t have had the problem at all.
How do aneurysms form? Is it stress? Did it grow because of me?
“I feel like I’m responsible,” I say. My eyes are still closed, but my tears have slithered out of my eyelids and are slipping down my cheeks. “I feel responsible.”
“Why do you feel you’re responsible?” she asks.
I sniff. “If we hadn’t gotten together at all, maybe Ben would have met someone else. He’d spend those five years we were together with another girl, or a few other girls. Or maybe he’d never date anyone. He’d take a different route in life, live free of any heartbreak, get a dog. Be happy.”
“Do you feel Ben might also be responsible for those five years you lost when you were with him? Perhaps you would have met someone else. Perhaps you would have taken a different route in life.”
I’m imagining what my life would be like if we stayed together. I would have been so unhappy.
I open my eyes. My vision is blurry. “No, I don’t think he’s responsible, but I’m happy where I am now. I don’t really feel like I lost those five years. It’s not like they were meaningless. I just wish it were different.”
“You can wish things were different without being responsible for how they are.”
“The way he died makes me feel like life is meaningless.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Telling psychiatrists you feel like life is meaningless is perhaps ill-advised.
I want her to think I’m getting better. I don’t want her to put me back into inpatient care.
I didn’t love the experience. I had to sleep in a room with my door open.
The bed was small and uncomfortable. I was fed hospital food I found very off-putting.
There was a lot of frozen cubed carrots and peas.
Joy could only visit at designated times, and she was anxious when she did.
I missed the cats and our bed. I was eager to get better and go home.
“I know what you mean,” Dr. Jeong says. “Questioning the meaning of life when someone dies, especially the way Ben died, is natural. I think most of us question that when we’re facing death, especially death that feels random. It’s okay to feel like life is meaningless.”
“Really?” I ask.
“Yes. I think so.” She nods. “I’m not sure it matters whether life feels meaningful.
I think it matters whether you find it worthwhile.
And am I right in saying that you do find it worthwhile?
From our sessions, I get the sense that you care a lot about your relationships with people, even with Ben, and you value life. ”
I rub my eyes.
“Yeah,” I say. “I do.”
“I haven’t been sleeping well,” I tell Joy.
Toulouse is sitting on my chest, purring like a revving engine.
“Me either,” she says.
“Because of the crying baby?”
“Partly, but I’m also just used to sleeping with you, in our bed. Have you been taking your sleeping pill?”
“Sometimes,” I say. “But it’s still hard to fall asleep when I’m alone here.”
“Are you kept awake worrying about burglars breaking in, and me not being there to protect you?”
I snort. “If a burglar broke in, you’d be no help. I’m the one who’d be defending us.”
She laughs. “Yeah right. You’re dreaming.”
I say, “The reason it’s hard for me to sleep, actually, is because I’m so accustomed to hearing the dulcet hum of you babbling and snoring next to me. I can’t sleep without it.”
“I don’t snore,” she says.
I laugh. Toulouse jumps off my chest.