Lauren Sanders has been left to start a 'new' normal life with her aunt and cousin after her family died. Everybody knows almost everything except for two things: Lauren's parents' mysterious death and her schizophrenia.
Lauren goes out on a mission...
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When the ego is endangered, repression occurs. It forgets or blocks unpleasant feelings unconsciously. During times of stress or worry, the ego may revert to an earlier stage, which is known as regression. My ego defense mechanisms are these two.
I remember my previous school counselor, whom I went to visit every time I'd find myself unable to do anything during class, such as participate, write, and engage with kids my age during group discussions in class. We didn't have the luxury to afford to set me up for an appointment to see a therapist.
I remember being an outgoing kid when I was little. When my dad chose to leave my mom, I think that's when everything changed for me. I was hopeful at first. I think that as kids, we are constantly hopeful, which is why I was hoping that my dad would return, and he did, but only stayed for no more than three weeks.
When he left that night, six years ago, and didn't return for such a long time, he had that look in his eyes, as if he was holding my mom's soul captive with his piercing gaze. He stood beside the door, his disgust masked under those brown eyes, staring at her. He didn't utter a single word for us to know that he wanted to leave, yet again. He also didn't utter a single word to try and explain why he wanted to leave again—any sort of reason to know why.
I think it was when I first learned to despise someone, particularly my own father, as a kid. Hatred developed in silence, and it grew on me.
Unlike my father, I was never the sort to hurl things around when he was angry or stressed about something. Unlike my mother, I was never the sort to deny when I warned her that dad would leave again and again and again, as he always did.
I embraced my bottle—a safe refuge—from which repression and regression flowed as I continuously poured in silence. I'd empty it every now and again, just when I needed to make space for more or felt near bursting.
Although, these past couple of days, my bottle had been full. I sometimes wonder if I'm slowly becoming my mother, who is in denial because she refuses to face reality for what it is because it is too painful to acknowledge. Maybe I'm in denial most of the time, especially when my father is there. I scoffed at the idea that he had matured and truly wanted to stay for good because he gave me no reason to believe that he could and would, for once, stay true to his words.
❀
I rushed straight up the stairs to my bedroom, kicked off my shoes, and slumped on the bed the instant I stepped foot inside our house. My eyes instinctively closed as drowsiness took precedence over hunger.
I thought I had drifted off to sleep for an hour or two, but I awoke at exactly nine o'clock in the morning the next day. It was great to have gotten some proper rest. I put my phone on the bedside table and grabbed a wire to connect to the outlet and charge my phone, which had been completely drained for almost seven days now.
