Therapy session number three… I got on a bus and I went. Again, we sat in silence for a few minutes before beginning the session.
The first question she asked me was what were my experiences with love. A tough question in my opinion, especially when I’m not even sure what love is. I explained a bit about my parents relationship. They got married, moved to Japan, had me, moved back again and had two more kids before deciding that they didn’t love each other but never divorced. They live under the same roof, barely speaking, separate bedrooms and separate lives.
I guess when I was younger I thought that maybe they stayed together for mine and my brother and sister’s sake, now I’m not too sure. Now I think they just fell into the comfort of knowing that somebody else was in the house, especially when we all went off to college. None of us really speak to my father amymore, a hello there or a do you need the car today? That’s pretty much it.
I explained to her how my relationship with my father was kind of like my first disappointment in love. I know it’s not a romantic love but it’s still love isn’t it?
Or at least it’s supposed to be.
I explained that from a young ages, listening to friends talking: “my daddy done…” and “me and my daddy…”, I never had anything to contribute. I went further and explained that I understood that from my point of view not only did we have a generation gap to bridge but we also had a huge cultural gap to build and in a way a language barrier set before is before we could being to bridge the rest.
I think she seemed surprised that I’d given it so much thought. That’s what I do though, I sit around with my thoughts a lot.
I admitted that I’d grown tired of the constant feeling of disappointment I’d receive from him and that I’d given up trying to come to an understanding. I’d never admitted it out loud, not with verbal words, that I could hear.
You know how sometimes you think aloud or say something out loud and realise it’s wrong as soon as you hear the words?
This wasn’t one of those times.
When I heard the words, I knew what I was saying was correct.
I don’t know how much my relationship with my father has influenced me as a person. I do know that a combination of my relationship with my father and the string of bad relationships has made it hard for me to trust men. I also know that seeing my parents relationship growing up, the strain it took on our family and where I am now in life, it’s made me want a family and a lasting, meaningful relationship. Something real and picturesque. I’m willing to fight for it and put in the effort, I’m not expecting it to just happen but I know that’s what I want.
I need to just figure out if this is the man who I can do it with. I want it to be him, so much.