Lust(24)

However, with my dreams filled with Ivy, I wasn't dreaming about other  things. I wasn't hearing the screams or loud voices. I wasn't feeling  the imaginary sweat stick to my skin or the suffocating sensation of  being stuck in a small space with not enough air. The haunting visions  of my past and the taunting memories seemed to have dissipated. Thoughts  of Ivy had managed to push it all away for the time being, and for  that, I was grateful. I just wasn't sure which was worse …  constantly  thinking about Ivy or my past.

I needed a change in my life. I couldn't continue with that I was doing.  But at the same time, I wasn't ready to let everything go. My thoughts  ran around in circles, one chasing the other. Yet the common thread was  my job. I knew I had the opportunity to help a lot of people, but  something in me had changed. And it left me having to make a choice.

To keep from making a rash decision, I waited until Tuesday, until my  regularly scheduled appointment, where I could speak to my own  therapist. I already knew what he would say, but at least he'd ask me  questions along the way. Granted, they would more than likely be the  same questions I had asked myself for three days, but hearing them come  from someone else and hearing my own answers out loud instead in my head  made all the difference. Maybe he would draw different answers from me,  which would enable me to come up with a different conclusion. I had  already come up with one conclusion. Trying to talk it out with myself  had become pointless. I would never get anywhere that way.

I hadn't heard from Ivy since I had left her apartment Friday night. She  never called me, nor did I make any attempt to call her. Well, that's  not entirely true. I had made plenty of attempts; I just never followed  through with any of them. I had picked up my phone countless times and  let my finger hover over her name on my contact list. My heart told me  to push that one little button that would easily dial her number, while  my mind told me I needed to back the fuck off. I had told her I would  give her space and let her lead the way. I was going to honor that  promise. Even if it fucking killed me.

"I feel like I need a break from what I do," I told Doctor Klaussen as I  sat on the couch in his office. I knew he wouldn't have expected me to  start with that. Over the years, we had gone round and round with my  choice of career. He found it laughable that I would call myself a  professional, and I thought it ignorant of him to dismiss me simply  because some of my work was done in the nude.

"And why do you feel like that?" he asked with interest.

This was why I needed to speak to him about it …  except now that I was, I  began to think it was a bad idea. The urge to backpedal and reel my  words back in was so great that I had to make a conscious effort in  order to continue. I knew that I would have to be honest with him, and I  knew he wouldn't appreciate what I had to confess to him. "I feel like  I'm getting too involved."         

     



 

"With a patient?" His eyebrows shot up and I got the feeling like he  wanted to yell out I told you so. I knew that he really didn't want to  do that. He was always professional, but my mind was already playing  tricks on me due to the difficult decisions that I knew lay ahead.

"Yes," I admitted hesitantly. "But it's not like what you're thinking. I  want to help her; I feel like I can really get through to her. But I'm  having a hard time separating it all. It's like I'm facing three  decisions …  I could change nothing and keep going with everything,  possibly crossing lines that I should never cross, ruining my career in  the process; I could keep my profession but drop her as a client; or I  could give it all up. But the problem here is that out of all of those  choices, only one lets me keep her. That's what I want, to keep her. And  that would mean I would lose my job. I'm pretty much faced with my job  or her. So I guess I have only two options."

"You just said that it's not like what I'm thinking. Let's start there.  What exactly is it that you assume I'm thinking?" he asked in an even  tone, keeping his judgment to himself.

"I assume with your reaction you think I'm romantically involved with a patient."

"And you're not?"

"No," I answered honestly due to a technicality.

"Okay, let's hold off on that thought for a moment and move onto the  next thing you said. You said if you keep your profession and keep her  on as a patient, you could cross lines that you should never cross.  Clarify that for me, please. What are these lines and why do you think  you would cross them?"

I didn't want to answer him. I knew what his opinion was on my chosen  career and I really didn't want to get into that conversation. Putting  my hesitation aside, I finally decided to just answer him. "Honestly? I  find myself wanting to be around her all of the time. I find myself  thinking about her often. It's like I need to talk to her, to know how  she's doing. I need to see her. I have never experienced this before and  so I don't know what it means. All I know is that when or if the time  comes that her treatment is taken to the next level, I worry that I  won't be able to keep it clinical. The lines that are drawn in regards  to my kind of therapy are there to keep things professional. It's to  protect my client and myself from becoming personal. Those are the lines  I'm talking about. Those are the things I worry will happen. And if we  become physical on a personal level …  I could lose my job."

"So then why are you so interested in keeping her as a patient or in  your life? If she has the ability to strip you of your job, your  self-proclaimed life's purpose, wouldn't that be an easy choice to make?  Wouldn't it be a simple decision? What seems to be your fascination  with her?"

The real question should have been what wasn't my fascination with her.  That would have been much simpler and shorter to answer. "I don't really  know to be honest with you. There're so many. I feel like I can really  help her. She's been through so much shit in her life and I feel that I  am the most qualified to help. At the same time, I can't help but think  she has the ability to fix me-or break me, I'm not sure which one."

"Is this really about healing one another or are there other feelings involved?"

"I can't answer that. I've never had feelings for anyone before. I have  nothing to compare this to," I admitted, giving him the simplest of  truths. "I don't know if it's simply because of how she makes me feel or  because I find her so complex and deep, and like for the first time in  my life, I have a chance of really getting through to someone on a  different level."

"Well, how does she make you feel?" he asked, digging deeper than I had allowed myself to go.

I looked around the room, trying to focus on something so that I could  allow my thoughts to open up. I hated opening my thoughts; that's  usually the time when I remember things I had long since locked away.  And that's when I realized what it was. "She makes me feel. I've spent  so long living in this dark space, fighting the demons of my past, and  blocking out the memories that seem to taunt my every waking moment. But  when I'm around her, it's like she owns my thoughts. She gives my  memories a reprieve for the time being and I'm no longer in that dark  space. It's almost like as I help her heal, she's helping me heal."

"So your episodes …  they're gone?"         

     



 

"Well, no. I still have them and will probably always have them. And I'm  not saying that I'm healed and now a completely normal person. There  are times when her demons provoke mine, but for the most part, she makes  me forget."

"Forgetting your problems is not the same as healing them."

"I know," I admitted. "But for the first time since I was eight, I don't  feel like they're swallowing me whole. I don't feel like they're about  to jump out of the shadows and suffocate me. And I can't help but think  it has something to do with her. I'm also aware of the fact that without  her, I could be pushed even further back into the shadows. And that's  where I'm having the issue." I leaned forward with my elbows propped on  my knees. "Do I give her up or not? And if I don't, what do I do about  my job?"

He tapped his pen on his leg, looking like he was contemplating  something. "If you're asking for my opinion, which I'm assuming you are  since that seems to be the only reason why you have kept these weekly  appointments with me over the years …  I'd say you need to figure out how  you feel about her before you come to any decision about giving up your  profession. I'd say you need to start dealing with your own demons and  facing your own past. It seems to me like you need to look at this with  two options at a time. The first one would be: treat the girl or don't  treat the girl. And from what I gather, the reason not to treat her  would be to keep from crossing lines. However, you could correct that  problem by changing the course of treatment …  By eliminating the bed, you  eliminate some of that chance. As for treating her …  You seem to have a  few reasons that range from truly wanting to help her to helping  yourself. So I'd say start right there. Figure out what is most  important to you and then go from there."