Understanding Alone
*
Being okay with silence.
“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you for trying to talk to Jean.”
I raised my brows at Paige, looking up from the sketch paper before me.
“Wait, you won’t yell at me for trying to fix her?”
Paige tilted her head. “Why would I? You didn’t try to fix her. You tried to talk to your sister with empathy. Then, when she lashed out, you didn’t crumble or fight her. You walked away and acknowledged that she needed to help herself.”
I shrugged. “Fighting or crying wouldn’t have helped the situation.”
Paige smiled. “Exactly, which is why I mentioned it. Bree, do you realize you’ve been coming to see me for six months, and this is the first time you reacted without an extreme, without Robert present or my guidance?”
I paused. “But I egged my dad on earlier that day.”
She shook her head, flipping a page in the notebook. “No, you displayed facts in a kind way to diffuse your sister’s argument.”
She closed the notebook. “While I don’t like the idea of you trying to ‘catch a grenade,’ I am proud of you for using your talents to manage to be around your family.”
I snorted. “My sarcasm?”
Paige shook her head. “Your empathy, kindness, and intelligence.”
I shifted uncomfortably, my fingers tightening around the colored pencil. But I could feel a small smile forming.
“You are uncomfortable,” said Paige. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I sighed and picked up my colored pencil, resuming drawing. I said quietly, “I don’t do well with praise.”
“Of course, because you’ve never received real praise before.”
I looked back up as she continued, “You were raised by people who couldn’t give you stable love, and other kids who had no idea how. Every praise came with a caveat. Accepting genuine compliments is hard when you feel it comes with a transaction.”
I leaned back into the couch as I chewed on her words. Leaning forward, I rested my forearms on my thighs as I spoke. “So, why do I feel so crappy about helping Jean?”
Paige chuckled, set her notebook down, and leaned forward. “You feel crappy because you expected praise for your kindness. Instead, Jean screamed at you.”
I frowned. “Then how is that progress?”
“Because you didn’t chase her until she said thank you. You accepted that she was upset, and you didn’t persist until she broke you or you forced an ‘I love you’ out of her.”
I took a deep breath. “So, you are saying I bully people.”
Paige paused and studied me. My god, she’s going to say, “Yes.”
Then, she let out a genuine laugh. Although she was typically composed, in these last few months, I had felt a real fondness for her.
“I would never call you a bully, but you are assertive.”
I shook my head. “That sounds like a nice term for a bully.”
She grinned, got up, and went to her desk. There was a picture of an enormous ginger cat. She walked back and handed it to me as I looked at it.
“That’s Snaps. He is my daughter’s cat, but—”
“You have a daughter?”
Paige nodded. “I do. And a wife.”
Immediately, I was pulled in. “Wait, you have an actual life?”
Paige snorted. “I do. But I’m sharing these details to help you, not to pull my life into your sessions.”
I remembered Liz telling Robert when they started their sessions that she wouldn’t tell him about her life because it could lead to a therapist crossing a line with their treatment. Then, he’d accidentally seen her with her wife at a bar.
This is a twist no one expected: therapists are humans, not emotion-regulating robots.
I ran my fingers over the wooden frame with little flowers carved into it. I smiled. “Snaps is cute.”
Paige smiled. “He is. But I wanted to show you him for a reason. Anyone in your life allergic to cats?”
I smirked. “Jason.”
She nodded. “You grew up with barn cats, right?”
“Yep.”
“And let me guess—no matter how hard Jason avoided them, they always picked him.”
I pictured him swarmed by kittens, cursing as he waved them off. They always did. I nodded.
“You are a bit like that. Likely for the same reason as the cats.”
I chuckled as she continued, “Humans crave interaction. We need to feel cared for, loved, and safe. The barn cats gravitated to your brother because he always resisted them.”
“And I approach those who don’t want me?”
She nodded. “You do, and that’s not always bad. You help people break through their walls—especially those who grew up like you.”
Like Robert.
I took a deep breath.
“But others, like your mother or your sister, you keep reaching your hand out. No matter how often you reach out, it’s never the right time.”
I returned my gaze to the sketch pad and picked up my pencil again. I focused on the bright blue merging onto the page.
“The fact you didn’t today is progress.”
I frowned, then looked up. “But aren’t we supposed to do that—reach out and help people?”
Paige shrugged. “What did you learn today?”
I tapped the pencil on the paper, the words dying in my throat. I knew the answer, but I knew uttering it would make it real. I finally mumbled, “We only help those asking for help.”
Paige nodded. “Exactly.”