“The day my mom was served papers saying that they were going to take our house.” I clasp my hands together in front of me. “Things had been rough prior to that. Me and my twin brother, Drew, knew they had been rough, but we’d always known we had a roof over our heads and food in our stomachs.” I stop for a second breathing in deeply and letting it out. “Mom,” I continue, “not wanting us to know, she hid the foreclosure paperwork before she went in for her shift, but Drew and I found it.”
“How did Drew take it?”
We’re in a habit in this group of asking questions to force the person telling the story to see it from each angle.
“Like he always did, he got angry. Pissed that Mom was a single mother and upset that our dad had left her instead of sticking around to raise us. That’s always been his MO - he gets angry. Not angry enough to hurt someone he cares about, but it’s almost as if he holds his anger like a shield.”
“How did you take it?”
I close my eyes, and I’m back to that day, so clearly. “I was scared to death. I can remember running to my room and laying down on the bed, putting the pillow over my head, and screaming. I don’t know why I was screaming, but I screamed until my voice was wrecked. Immediately I began thinking about all the things we’d have to do. There was no way I’d be able to take all the things I loved with me, there was no way we’d even be able to transport our beds in mom’s small car. And that’s when it hit me, right in the stomach…”
I don’t mean to stop, but I need a slight break.
“What hit you?” someone asks.
“All the things I’d missed. I ran down the stairs and threw open the fridge and freezer. There was barely any food, and then I went to the pantry. There were two bags of microwave popcorn and a half loaf of bread. It was like that night my eyes were opened, and since then I haven’t been able to close them.”
“What do you mean?” the group leader asks. “We’re doing really good work here, Mandy, but you need to go just a little bit deeper. Don’t think about it, just say the first thing that pops into your head.”
“It started an obsession with always having and trying to be enough.” I clap my hand over my mouth after the words come out.
“Don’t silence yourself. Keep going.”
I’ve never spoken these feelings aloud before, I’ve never confided them to anyone, and it’s nice to finally not hold my mouth closed after so many years. But at the same time, I’ve kept this in front of me like a shield and it’s hard to let that shield down.
“No one knows this, but as a teenager and into my twenties when I lived at home, I would go downstairs and make sure there was still food at night. If anyone caught me, I’d pretend like I was thirsty or hungry so none of my family would think I’m crazy. My bank account? I’m so frugal I keep enough living expenses for a year in there, even though I know I have family and friends who would make sure I never want for anything.”
“Does anyone know this?”
“No.” I shake my head, feeling shame. This is just one more thing I’ve felt like I had to do to keep myself safe and taken care of. “The account is in my name only because I’m always worried something will happen between me and my husband, and I’ll be left with nothing.”
“Keep going, Mandy. You’re almost there. Why?”
“I’m scared to death he’s going to leave me alone the way my biological father left us alone. If I wasn’t good enough for him, how can I make anyone else happy?”
As I finally push the words from my throat, I’m almost hyperventilating, crying with the last of the sentence, and holding myself tightly around the middle. If I let go, I’m sure I’ll fall apart into a million pieces and there won’t be anyone there to help put me back together.
“That’s it, Mandy. That’s it.”
I collapse against the back of the chair, feeling as if I’ve run a marathon. I’m exhausted and all I want to do is sleep, but I realize this is part of coming to terms with your mental health. My nerves are shot as I let myself cry it out, wishing there weren’t so many people around. Fair’s fair though, I’ve watched them cry and now it’s their turn to watch me.
“We’ll come back to it tomorrow, Mandy.” The leader smiles at me. “Go get something to drink.”
I nod, eager to get up from the chair and away from everyone I just bared my soul to. Slowly, I walk to the back of the room where there’s a water dispenser with paper cups. My hand shakes as I grab the cup and fill it up. My throat is dry and my cheeks are wet.
I’m a fucking mess if there ever was one.
But I can breathe. Finally I can breathe. I don’t have this heavy brick on my chest anymore. I pushed past something here today. What? I’m not sure, but I know in the next couple of weeks it’ll be exposed as I work on the things hidden even deeper.
Thirsty, I drink the cup until there’s nothing left, then reach down, filling it up again. Once I drain it for a second time, I turn around, seeing that the group is putting their chairs back up and we’re being dismissed.
The leader, I think her name is Monica, comes up to me. “Mandy, you did really good today, I’m sorry if I pushed you. I’m extremely excited about the head-way we made though.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I need to be pushed. Things aren’t always going to be easy, and sometimes I don’t realize how much I hide.”
It’s in this moment, I realize I hide almost everything.
My feelings.
My voice.
My heart.
My love.
All of it is hidden because I’m so fucking scared of giving it to someone who will turn it around and use it on me. God, I’m not even sure how I’ve managed to be married as long as I have. It makes me wonder how many times Dalton’s wanted to talk to me about something and I’ve managed to turn the conversation around so that we didn’t have to delve into the important stuff.
Because I couldn’t deal with it.
I’m beginning to realize I never asked him what he could or couldn’t deal with.
“Self-preservation can, at times, turn into something much more. It’s important we keep track of what’s happening, and if no one knew how much you weren’t sharing, then no one knew how isolated you were becoming.”
Or rather they knew, but I rejected them every time they wanted to talk to me.
“I’ve got a lot to work through.”
She smiles. “No more than the other people in this group. It’s important you understand that. You’re no better or worse than everyone else. Don’t spend your time here trying to apologize. Apologize once to the people who need it, then move on.”
There are so many who deserve an apology. Starting with my son and husband. How has Dalton dealt with me for so long?
“Don’t start it.” She shakes her finger in front of my face. “I can see you starting to feel like you’re less. People put up with you because they love you. They want to be around you, and you make their lives worth living. We overlook a lot of shit for the people we love, remember that.”
I grin slightly, thinking of all the stuff I’ve overlooked about Heaven Hill for so many years. “You’re right. Is it possible to even separate them?”