I met a wonderful person one day early on in my life although i didn't think it at the time. I was a lonely depressed little boy who didn't talk unless spoken too. People were taking notice of me for the first time in my life, all i wanted to do was hide. Mum and dad spoke to teachers, who shared their concern for me. They took me to the doctor, he could find nothing wrong with me. Eventually they decided on therapy and off we went as a family, my parents, me and my older brother. I didn't like these get togethers as they called them and would withdraw even more. Then i got wise and starting saying things that i thought people wanted to hear and this went on for about 3 or 4 months. I don't know if the therapist wasn't buying it and still had suspicions that not all was well. She suggested to my parents that i should see her 1 to 1 for a while, whether she had voiced any concerns to them i don't know. I continued to go on my own and i started to look forward to my visits. She didn't ask any questions and we just talked about anything really. That's how it was for several weeks just talking and i was starting to feel comfortable. Then the subject became more concise, she wanted to start talking about me. I don't know if my expression changed but i think alarm bells starting going of in her head. I went back to saying "I'm ok" or "there's nothing wrong" but she wasn't buying it and kept pushing but for some reason i let her. Then one week after a rather uncomfortable session were we argued about her favourite subject ME. She was getting cross with me either that or being very clever, as i was leaving she shouted at me if i cant talk about whatever is bothering me then write it down. Write it down, she's crazy, well 2 days later i was writing and i kept on tearing it up and rewriting. My emotions were really getting high, i carried on writing, i was crying i carried on writing. I wrote my life story for her, pen and paper, black and white. When i thought i had finished, i wrote it again. Then on my next visit i gave her what i had written. She read it all of it, all of my secrets, i had given her everything. I haven't seen my brother since that day he was sent away. I continued to she Jean for a number of years afterwards and still see her occasionally every now and then. As far as I'm concerned she saved my life. I could say thank you to her everyday for the rest of my life and i would still feel like i owe her. I still write things down even after all these years when i feel the need. I know were my brother is and i stopped hating him, i have even thought about seeing him but i don't think that will happen.
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Posted - 08/21/2009 : 8:30:09 PM
