The Man That Changed My Life - Part 3


... It was not to have some time to recover, but things were back to normal for the most part.

I returned to school the next day but my mom insisted on driving me there. I felt bad because it was so far out of her way, but I was glad that I did not have to take the bus for now.

When I arrived at school, my favorite security guard noticed that I missed school the previous day and ask why. In a corner of the hallway, I quietly told her what had happened the day before, and she hugged me in the hallway. I'm sure the hug looked strange to others, but it felt good to me. She told me she was glad that I was okay and gave me instructions on what to do if it ever happened again. She said, "Keep your hands in your pockets and put a key from your key ring between each finger. If someone trys to attack you, punch them in their eyes and run away." I smilled and thought that was a good idea.

For awhile I tried to walk aroung like Wolevrine, but I felt silly. Besides, I did not worry that it would happen again; I knew that I would be okay and had nothing to worry about. I knew that, but it was hard for my mom to hear. My mom was single now, and she picked up a lot of overtime. She had to get up extra early to drop me off at school and get to work on time. I hated to see her work so hard, and I told her that I would be okay riding the bus again.

She would not listen at first, but finally she agreed to let me and promised me, "If it takes blood, sweat and tears, I will buy you a car." I did not want by mom to have to push herself anymore than she already was, but it was nice to hear. At that age, you are not always sure that your parents love you, but I knew without a doubt that she did.

My mom insisted that I get some counseling, and to everyone's surprise, I was excited. I decided when I was nine years old that I wanted to become a psychologist. I thought that this was my oppurtunity to see what they do. I was happy with my therapist: First off, she was a woman (thank God). Second, she was so nice, which made it easy for me to talk. I felt sorry for her because I talked her ear off. I talked about school, my parents, and boys, and she let me talk about whatever I wanted to. The only thing that I did not talk about much was the kidnapping attempt. I did not want to talk about that. I mean, what was I going to say? Okay, yes, I got scared sometimes, but I shouldn't be; I got away unharmed. I wanted everyone to know that I was stronger than that.

After six weeks of therapy, 12 sessions altogether, I ended my counseling sessions. I would miss the therapist a little, but I was happy to get back to regular life. My mom had a private session with my therapist to get an understanding of how I was doing. I couldn't wait for her to ease my mother's concerns; after all, the therapist never saw a moment of weakness. She would tell my mother that I was a tower of strength. That no man could scare me or take away my sense of security. Now, I was the one sitting in the waiting room while my mother had a session with the psychologist. I felt a little uncomfortable knowing that they were mainly talking about me, but in a way I felt grown up. The door opened, and the therapist walked me and my mom out of her office. It was strange to say goodbye forever to a woman I quickly befriended, but I was used to that, so it was not hard for me.

Years later, I asked my mom what the therapist said to her. She summed it by saying, "She said you were hiding something. You were not ready to open up." All that time, I thought I'd outfoxed everyone. It was not like I wanted be deceptive, but my fear and anxiety were growing more severe with time. I thought about telling the therapist about how hard it was for me to walk around and not know if this man would ever get caught. I tried to keep a mental image of the man ingrained in my mind so that I could help the police catch him. That felt like toture because everywhere I went it seemed like there was someone that looked liked him. I was terrified that he would break in my house and kill my whole family. Of course, I could not tell her that; I couldn't tell anyone. I did not want anyone to worry about me or doubt my maturity. I knew that my fears were irrational, and I had every confidence that I would get better on my own. He did not even hurt me. I was mad at myself for being so weak and letting my emotions get the best of me. During the day I could manage, but nights were starting to become unbearable ...

Godsmack- I Stand Alone Lyrics


LazyKing said...

After an experience like this, you'll always have something awful to remember.
I hope that by now you are completely healed

Don't Be a Slut said...

I hope the blog is helping you get past the fear.