Page 3 of Wild Thing
And now all I have left is my killer handbag collection.
And my physical health too, I suppose. Certainlynotmy mental health. Oh no, that is utterly fucked.
Maybe I am just a girl with an addiction to self-destruction?
My latest tale is not unusual, but it is perhaps one of the worst. Engaging in an affair with my ex set off a series of events that have led me here. Dr. Crowe thinks the worst I've done so far is be 'the other woman', but I'm yet to utter a word about the other reason as to why I need her help. I shove that painful memory back down. That needs to stay locked away for now.
The deeper she digs, the darker it gets. I’ll trauma dump that on Dr. Crowe another day.
“Of course. I hurt myself more than anyone,” I say, sighing and crossing my ankles. “No one punishes me harder than I do myself.”
I often wonder if I'm damaged or inherently flawed in some way.Why do I sabotage things?
“Would you say you’re fearful of settling down?”
My palms start to feel sweaty. “With Zack, yes,” I admit. "He had his life all planned out. He wanted the stereotypicalsuburban dream. Complete with the tacky white picket fence and a trophy housewife. Which is sonotme.”
“And did he communicate his wishes to you early on?”
I chuckle. If he’d been honest from the start, there is no way I would have stayed. “No. Not early enough.”
I pick at my cuticles. I do that when I'm nervous. It's a shitty habit I need to break.
“I think I was terrified of the life Zack wanted,” I say with certainty. I wonder how different things would have been if I’d been strong enough to break up with Zack before I left on that ill-fated work trip.
“Deep down, I knew he wasn't the one for me. With him I was starting to feel the life I was once so full of, was slowly draining from me. I could see our future and it was my worst fear. You know those couples I mean, right? The ones whose relationship becomes strained because the harsh reality of life seeps in. The spark fades away, the sex dries up and the only conversation they have centers around the kids.”
Dr. Crowe’s eyes shift slightly. I wonder if I’ve hit a nerve. I quickly cast my eyes over her desk. Sitting beside a potted succulent is a framed family photo. Herself, a man who I assume is her husband, and two little children. Standing out the front of a house with a fucking white picket fence.
Shit. I’ve definitely hit a nerve.
“Anyway, I’m not saying it’s a bad thing,” I quickly say, trying to make up for my faux par. “It’s just not for me.”
Dr. Crowe tilts her head to the side, narrowing her eyes, not buying my bullshit for a second. “Would you say your fear of settling down comes from what your father did?”
Honestly? Probably. The thought of doing life alone scares the living shit out of me. But so does the thought of the daily grind once marriage and babies are in the picture. It all seems so overwhelming. You become a shell of your former self, living forothers, and never for yourself. If you're lucky, your significant other will stick around. And if you're not? Well, then you're on your own.
And then?
You die.
And dying alone frightens me.
God, I hate my high maintenance mind.
But then there washim.
And he ruined everything.
The truth was, I would have settled. For him.
Because that kind of love? You’re only blessed with that once. That wild, unrestrained, passionate, and fierce love. The kind of love that makes your throat close over when you think of ever losing that person. The kind of love you’d burn the world down for.
The kind of love Ididburn my world down for.
So maybe that was why I did what I did.
For love.
