Therapy Thursday!

Those of you who follow me are still probably wondering why oh why did I stay with Mr 1950 "You will obey me" horrendous of a man after that honeymoon opening scene... Welcome to my very first post labeled Therapy Thursday. Although that crap is behind me, and I've worked through it to clear those nasty clouds, it looks as if there will always be remnants of dirt tucked under my carpet. I need to not delve back into this mess too often, maybe try to limit it to 1 day a week. Like therapy, if we saw the therapist everyday we'd most likely all commit suicide. I'll try to limit this nasty past to one day per week, minimum.

No. 2 had 3 kids. Since he was 18 years older than I was, his kids were closer in age to me than he was. I'd say between 9 and 14 years difference, give or take... 2 older girls and the youngest a boy. The middle child, Sza Sza (not her real name, but it suits her since she was a real beauty) was a brainiac. Studied pure sciences and biology (pre-med) at the university and graduated on the dean's list with an overall average of 97%. Her father's pride and joy. The one to save the family face (his first daughter sued him when she was 16) his son lied through his teeth and we never knew when he was saying the truth or not, although he was rather quite the brainiac too. He kept reminding us in case we'd forget. But the middle child: a true star. Sweet, pretty, smart, popular "it-girl", the works.

Then weird stuff started to happen. After graduating she decided she suddenly decided she didn't want to be a doctor but an artist. She enrolled in a series of classes: dancing, singing, painting, drawing, etc. Nothing wrong there I guess. You must admit though that it was a total turn-around. One night she called us, she had just crashed her car. Zoned out she went straight through a red light and her car was totaled.

Progressively things went really Stephen King weird. Drawings of goddesses would replace my CDs. Which she donated to the goddess for protection. Her routine donations consisted of leaving awesome stuff on street corners. Movies and CDs featuring women in a positive way were deemed respectable donations to the goddess. Mainly MY movies and CDs. One day she swallows a handful of pills. Doctors diagnose her with schizophrenia. Or having psychotic episodes. More tests are needed.

Dear old No.2 could not deal with this shit. His words. So he accepted a long-term contract forcing him to work out of town weekly, conveniently I was left alone with Sza Sza from Tuesday nights to late late Friday nights. Every week. The first night he started his new job,  I woke up at 4 am. She is standing above me by the bed staring at me. I freak out. Of course I freak out. "Are you afraid of me?" ...man, why are the scary ones always so friggin' calm while we are praying we didn't just poop ourselves? "No of course not, you just startled me, I wasn't expecting you... what's that behind your back?" This kinda brings her back to reality, shows me what she's holding, thank god it was just some goofy looking huge white bunny rabbit with big flopping ears. "This is Mr. Slippers. There's demons in the basement. They're keeping me awake."

I explain to her how the demons (wtf, did she really just say demons?) haven't found out about the second floor yet, she's safe upstairs. She smiles, a crooked little smile letting me know she now thinks I'm the weird one for easily accepting there may be demons in the basement where her bedroom is. I ask her if she wants to sleep upstairs with me. It's a big bed, I'll keep them nasty ass sons-of-a-bitches demons away and promise to kick their asses if they come up. She laughs, her normal fun laugh climbs in bed and says she was hoping I'd say that! Which part she referred to I had no idea... that she could sleep upstairs or that I may actually be able to kick some demon butt?

She immediately fell asleep. I looked at her and made a silent contract with myself. I was not going to let this girl down. Her mother, college teacher in counseling. Her father, among many titles was a university professor ALSO in counseling. At the MASTER'S level. Both had clearly stated they could not "deal with her shit". What did I know about psychology and schizophrenia??? (word I can't even spell without the help of my BFF Mr Google) What I did know though was how to do what they'd obviously failed at: offer unconditional love. That same kind of love my parents gave me.

I remained married for 3 years. There was no way I could become Vicky the Demon Slayer while dealing with the nightmare of a divorce. One nightmare at a time... And yes, there is a very happy (non messy) ending I'm happy to say, and to this day she still considers me her guardian angel. I love sweet sappy Hallmark endings!

Happy Thursday!