Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
FINN
“It’s been a while since our last session.”
Dr. Madden hasn’t been outwardly changed by grief. The same gray suit sits on his tall, muscular form, his hair only just touched with a little more silver than the last time I saw him. His soft features show some slight weariness, but other than that, he’s still the same old Madden.
“It has,” I confirm.
“And how have you been?”
I shrug off the question. I thought going back to therapy would not be much of a transition for me. I’ve grown to trust Dr. Madden over the years, and yet it would seem the knack I grew for shutting myself off has grown to be a bit of a habit.
Dr. Madden sees that, his chin almost meeting his chest as his eyebrow raises.
“Not in the talking mood today?”
“More like I’ve forced myself out of the habit.”
“The habit of talking, or sharing?” he asks.
“Both?”
He looks intrigued by my response.
“And what do you think you will need to get back in the habit?”
I laugh, all humor forgotten from the sound. “A time machine?”
He chuckles to himself. It’s not like what you see in the movies. He doesn’t write in some little notebook when he hears something worth diagnosing. He simply sits, listens and tries to guide the conversation to where he knows he might strike gold.
“And what would you do differently if you had one? A time machine.”
I contemplate his question, and the answer causes my chest to tighten. I stare down at my lap. “I would keep my parents alive.”
Dr. Madden’s kind smile falters. It’s what I like about him. He’s not some emotionless yet obnoxious idiot who acts as if all the things he hears don’t affect him. He still wears his emotions on his face, even if they are muted and controlled.
“What do you think that would achieve, Finley?”
I shrug. “They’d be alive; my OCD never would have kicked in and I’d be able to make simple decisions without suffering from the effects of some massive internal debate.”
He watches me intently, his gaze skirting over my face. He readjusts his position as he says, “Let’s focus on the second part for a minute.” He straightens his tie. “You are saying that if your parents were still alive, you never would have developed OCD, is that true?”
I give a single nod.
Dr. Madden’s head tilts to the side. “So, you’re saying that your parents’ passing is a catalyst for your OCD?”
“Well, if they were still here, I never would have developed this overactive need to please people and be so perfect for them that they would never think to get rid of me. I would be able to make decisions for myself without relying on the opinions of those around me, and instead simply just enjoy hearing their opinions.”
“This is interesting.” Dr. Maddens nods. “This is a very intriguing insight on your OCD, Finley.”
“It is?”
“Yes,” he confirms. “You’re incredibly aware of your triggers.”
“I have to be. I refuse to let them affect my family, so it’s my job to know what they are.”
“So, you’re concerned about the effect your OCD has on your family?”
“Yeah.” I give him a look and he clears his throat. After some moments of silence, he speaks again. “Okay, let me ask you this: do you ever stop to think that it’s your job to know what these triggers are so that they do not affect you?”
I feel a cough get lodged in my throat. I swallow it down. “I suppose it never really occurred to me. I mean they’re my family, you know? I love them with everything I have. And I’ve already lost two of them.”
“But not because of you.”
True, but a moot point.
“And now there’s everything going on with Oakleigh, so I have even more reason to sort my shit out.”
“Oakleigh? Her name hasn’t come up in a while.”
Yeah, not for about eight months.
I take a deep breath and release it. It feels just as heavy as my feelings about everything we’ve been through so far.
He takes his time taking everything in and assessing the information.
I take that time to breathe deeply, looking around his office with an almost fond remembrance.
When I started seeing Dr. Madden, I was only twenty-two, just back from college and sitting on a foundation of embarrassment and shame that had kept me company the entire four years I was away.
He was far from the first therapist that I went to see.
From the moment our parents died, Mom and Dad sent me to several different therapists, all of whom tried their best to convince me that the intrusive thoughts were easy to stop, if I simply just stopped convincing myself that they were there.
When I turned seventeen, I begged my parents to let it stop. I didn’t want to inconvenience them further by making them fork out more money, so instead I waited until I could afford it myself. And when the time came, thankfully Dr. Madden was the first one I came across on my search.
He lifts his head. “How would you summarize all of what you’ve just told me?”
“For anyone listening, it would probably sound as if I’m getting everything I want, which I suppose I am, but it’s more that I’m getting everything I want in the one way I didn’t want it.” My chuckle is sharp, again humorless. “Karma can be a bitch like that.”
With a low hum, he asks, “What is it that you are expecting to get out of this, Finn?”
It surprises me that it takes me so long to answer him, not because it’s a difficult question but rather because it is a question I thought I already had the answer to.
I’ve spent weeks knowing that the angle consisted of two things—to see my mother carefree, and to get the woman that I have pined for for so long without ever once losing track of why.
And yet now something stops me from supplying Dr. Madden with the same answer I’ve been giving myself for weeks.
It’s been a while since I looked inward; since I stopped and took the time to get on the same page with myself.
Sure, it would be easy for me to blame it on how busy I’ve been—the time spent with Oakleigh mixed with buying the land from Nigel, working, and trying to make a final decision on whether to sell the company.
However, the reality of the situation is that I simply no longer know what I want.
I’m now at a point where it’s possible for me to have everything that I want, and now I’m starting to think that that might be too much.
“If I’m being honest, I’m not entirely sure.”
Dr. Madden nods, showing me that I just gave him the answer that he expected. I’m not surprised that by now the man can read me like an open book.
“Let’s talk more about your OCD,” he says.” What has that been like during this situation.”
I involuntarily suck in a breath, which already tells him everything that he needs to know. I tell him anyway. “It’s been tough. The thoughts are annoying and they caused my anxiety to spike as per usual, but they’ve stayed manageable. It’s the compulsions that have become worse over time.”
“You remember what I told you?” Dr. Madden asks.
I nod earnestly. Of course, I remember. Those words are the only reason that this thing hasn’t consumed me.
“It only becomes unsafe if you give in to it, Finley. The moment you give those thoughts what they want is the moment they make your actions unsafe.”
“What do you think your compulsions say about you, Finley?”
“What do you mean?”
Dr. Madden shrugs calmly. “Well, do you think that they make you stronger? Weaker? Brave?”
“Why would they make me stronger?” I ask, my tone bitter.
“Because it’s something you manage to overcome each time?”
My scoff is bitter. “Overcome is not the word I would use.”
“Then what is, Finn?”
I don’t want to answer because I don’t have a word.
Not for something so complicated. My compulsions take away any control I have over not just my body, but also my own thoughts and feelings, and it’s scary giving away that much trust. I don’t want to tell Dr. Madden this because I don’t want to make him think that our time apart has been detrimental.
Although, I’m not silly enough to believe he thought my compulsions had stopped, I still don’t want him to think that I’ve fallen far.
“Finn?”
Shit, I’m lost in thought again.
“Sorry,” I say. I clear my throat. “I don’t think I have a word.”
He waits for me to talk. Sometimes, he prefers to do that. He’ll jump between him leading the conversation and me doing it. It lets him see what areas to address. To him, I bring up what needs to be spoken about even when I don’t know I’m doing it.
I search his office as if I’ll find the words sitting on his desk or his bookshelf.
“I don’t know, maybe they say that I’m emotional?”
“Go on.”
I close my eyes, reaching deeper into myself and pulling some words out.
“My mom Wanda says that I have a lot of love to give. She says that it’s chaotic, but in a good way.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’ve always been quite an emotional guy and it sits inside of me just waiting.
Maybe I try and control my feelings and that’s what causes problems. Maybe emotions aren’t meant to be restrained and I need to stop trying. ”
I look to Dr. Madden for the answer, but I know he won’t tell me.
That’s not his job: to set out all of the answers for me on a silver platter, there for me to pick up when I feel ready.
It’s his job to guide me and teach me how to guide myself.
However, his eyebrows are furrowed, lips turned down at the corners.
Shit, maybe I said the wrong thing.
“Or, you know, something like that,” I add, hating the silence between my reply and his.
When he looks back at me, his face lifts and finds its usual composure. Again, hating the silence, I add more simply to fill the space.
“My OCD stems from trauma, I know, but maybe it worsens not because of that, but because I restrain myself and allow myself to find the bad in my feelings.
Maybe I care so much about what others think because I want to know how to feel so that I can pick which feeling is correct and shove the others down.
“I’ve spent my whole life thinking that I need to be perfect for those around me.
The minute I fell for Oakleigh, I sabotaged it without even giving myself a chance because I thought about how I would never be able to match how perfect she is.
I knew I’d be flawed and I’d make mistakes, and that meant I wasn’t worthy of her.
I never even took the time to think that maybe Oakleigh would also make mistakes, would also display some flaws, and that I made her perfect in my eyes despite those flaws because to me, they’re beautiful. So why can no one do that for me, too?”
Holy shit, did that all just come from me?
The smile on Dr. Madden’s face tells me it did. All he says in response is, “Interesting.”
Isn’t it just.