Chapter 17 - Cooper
Cooper
“So, tomorrow’s the day, eh?” Dr. Kranzinski says from where he sits across the room.
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” I know I’m a grown man, too old to be whining, but honestly, can you blame me?
“Doc, maybe you need a room here. You’re clearly outta your mind if you think it’s time for me to go home.
” I stop my pacing long enough to prop my hands on my hips and shoot him an incredulous look.
He stares at me, thoroughly unimpressed. This guy seriously needs to work on his sense of humor. Heaving a sigh from the depths of my soul, I flop down in the plush chair, landing in a graceful sprawl. “Fiiiiiine. I know it’s time for me to go home, but I’m scared, okay? No… I’m terrified.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“Me,” I whisper. Dr. Krazinski waits. “I’m afraid of the voice in my head. I’m afraid to look at myself in the mirror. I’m afraid of the release I get from hurting myself. I’m afraid it’ll get bad again. I’m afraid I’ll end up back here…or worse.”
“Let’s take this one sentence at a time, okay?” Dr. Krazinski says.
I nod.
“Tell me about the voices in your head.”
“Voice. Just one. His. He’s always there with reminders that I’m worthless. Unlovable. Unwanted. Things like that.”
“Are you worthless? Is there nothing about yourself that you or those around you value?”
“Well…” I scratch the back of my head as I think. “I’m a pretty good artist. My books at the tattoo shop are usually filled months in advance.”
“That’s impressive. It is a skill that many would envy.
When you find yourself feeling worthless, I want you to create something if you can.
At the very least, try to focus on the things about yourself that you value.
If that doesn’t work, lean on your support system.
Ask them what they value about you and the relationship between you. ”
“Great. So I’ll be the needy friend fishing for compliments.”
“There are worse things to be. You could be the melodramatic friend,” he deadpans. My jaw drops. Did he just sass me?! I close my mouth and squint my eyes at him. He clasps his hands together. “Now, what is it about the mirror that you struggle with?”
My breath catches. Nobody knows about this. I haven’t even been able to admit it to Max. “Doc, we’ve come a long way, you and I. But I’m still not ready to go there. The mirror and I…we have a fucked-up relationship.”
“If you don’t wish to discuss the history behind your mirror struggles, let’s discuss how you may be able to avoid those struggles.”
“I had Max remove all the mirrors in the apartment in preparation for my coming home,” I admit. “I could tell she was confused, but, bless her, she didn’t ask for any details.”
“This issue you have with mirrors—you will need to address it, Cooper. You need to talk about it, either with me or someone else you trust. Until you do, we can’t come up with a real treatment plan. Avoidance is not a long-term solution.”
“I know.” At the hint of a growl in my voice, Dr. Krazinski raises his eyebrow at me.
I lower my gaze to the floor sheepishly.
“I know, Doc. Really, I do. And I promise, I am working on opening up about it. But mirrors and voicing everything he did to me are my biggest struggles. It’s gonna take me some time. I just need you to be patient with me.”
He stares at me so long, I start to think he’s gonna push me.
I don’t know how I’ll react if he does. The doc has been good to me.
He’s helped me make a lot of progress these past few months.
But if he chooses this hill, it might just be the one I die on.
I can’t open that box yet. I just can’t.
Finally, after a decades-long stare down, he nods his acquiescence.
“Very well. We will table that topic for now, but Cooper…” He waits until I meet his eyes. “…remember what I said during our first meeting about pushing. The time for that will be here sooner than you think.” Damn him.
I give a curt nod.
“You said that you experience a release after hurting yourself, and you’re afraid it will get bad again. Tell me about that.”
I groan. “Must we do this?”
“Yes, we must.”
“You’re the therapist. You can probably explain why I like to hurt myself better than I can.”
“Probably, but I want to hear it from you.”
“When I hurt myself, it’s usually for one of two reasons. Sometimes, my emotions are too much for me, and I need something else to focus on. Other times it’s because hurting hurts less when I’m doing it myself.”
“So it’s about either distraction or control?”
“Basically.”
“What are some ways you’ve coped in the past?”
“My ‘coping methods’ usually land me in a place like this.” Dr. Krazinski closes his eyes and rubs his brow.
“I’m not being a smart-ass. I’m being serious.
I really haven’t developed any coping methods outside of various substances, which I stopped trying years ago.
I have been thinking about it, though.” It hits me how that might sound.
“Not the drugs! I’ve been thinking about ways to cope.
I think I want to try to learn how to bake.
Max and I always watch those baking competitions.
I think that’d be a good thing to focus my need for both distraction and control on. What do you think?” I ask shyly.
He looks at me, and I swear I can see a hint of pride in his eyes.
“I think that’s a very good place to start, Cooper.
” Hope blooms in my chest. “Let’s discuss that last sentence from earlier before our time is up.
You said you’re afraid you’ll end up back here, or worse. What does worse mean to you?”
It takes me a minute, but I finally get the words out. “I’m afraid that one day, one of my attempts will actually kill me.”
“And you think that having that fear is a bad thing?”
“Of course it’s a bad thing! Normal people aren’t afraid they’ll kill themselves.”
“I think it’s perfectly normal to fear death, no matter how we envision it coming for us.”
My head jerks back in shock, but Dr. Krazinski just continues on.
“I think that it’s a very good sign that you have this fear.
It means that you don’t want to die, and that is how I know it’s time for you to go home.
We’ve done all that we can in a controlled environment.
Now you need to reintroduce the real world into your system and develop healthy coping skills.
You’ll have me and your friends to help with this transition. You aren’t alone.”
“I’m not alone,” I say softly. “I’m not alone.” I repeat it more forcefully this time, and for the first time in a very long time, a part of me starts to believe.