Chapter 3

I have a love/hate relationship with my therapist. On the one hand, she makes me talk, and on the other hand, she makes me talk.

"Hey, Cal. I hear you've had an adventurous week." She sits, relaxed and smiling as I dump my bag on the floor and flop onto a sofa.

"I guess..." I mumble staring at my hands.

"Want to tell me about it?"

"Not really." She makes no comment, just sits and looks. "Fine. My new," air quotes, "'sister' is transphobic trash and now I don't have anywhere I can be myself."

"What makes you say that she is transphobic?"

"She thinks jokes about there only being two genders are funny."

"Hmmm..okay. Where did she hear this joke?"

"It was from one of her friends on Facebook."

"Okay. Did you tell her why you don't think they are funny?"

"She should just know!"

"And you think that hitting a wall helped her to that understanding?"

"Of course not! I just...I got so angry and I didn't want to hurt anyone...."

"Except yourself."

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. 'Learn to express your anger in healthy ways.' At least I didn't hit her."

"True. You did, however, cause her and everyone else in your family distress."

"I thought you were supposed to be on my side!"

"I am on your side. I am trying to guide you towards seeing the less obvious consequences of your actions."

"I'm not stupid, I know what I did was idiotic."

"Then let's figure out a better response."

I pick at the fringe of a pillow. We sit in silence for a few moments.

"Does Rebel know that you identify as nonbinary?"

"I don't identify as nonbinary, I am nonbinary," I mutter.

"You're avoiding the question."

I shrug. "I thought she did. I mean, my parents would have told her, don't you think?"

"Is it your parents' responsibility to tell her?"

"Yes!...Maybe?...I don't know....I mean, they are the one that made this decision without consulting me."

"Now, you told me that they asked if you were okay with the situation and that you just, and I quote, 'shrugged'."

"They should have known!"

"Once again, how are they supposed to know if you don't tell them?"

"I don't know." My stomach is in knots and I can't look her in the eye.

"Why do you think you have so much difficulty communicating your needs?"

I shrug, instantly feeling defensive and uncomfortable.

"This seems like a good thing for you to think about. Have you kept up your journal?"

"Yeah."

"Good. I want you to reflect on all of your feelings about your new situation, focusing on any good things you think you might get out of it. This doesn't negate the unpleasant emotions, but it might help you to see that it is okay to also get something out of the chaos. Change is hard, but it isn't all negative or positive. Let yourself imagine a world where everything settles into a new routine."

I can't even begin to imagine this, but I just nod.

She smiles. "Good. I don't have to read what you write, but please do think about it." She notes something in my file. "Now, your mom was talking about sending you to anger management classes -wait," she gestures as I start to protest, "...but I don't think that is necessary. I know you can regulate because you have in the past."

I sigh in relief. "Thank you."

"I would like for you to find a way to channel your anger, however. So in addition to journaling, I would like you to think about something that you feel passionate about. It can be anything: writing, dance, even trans advocacy. If we can figure out a way for you to channel some of your anger into a positive direction I think that will help with the situational depression and anxiety."

"How can that help with my anger?"

"Well, sometimes with anger we just have an urge to do something. Often times this comes out in destructive behavior like this week. However, if we can take this energy and funnel into motivation and determination, we can turn anger into a positive force for change."

I am dubious, but I shrug. "Okay."

"Fantastic!" She pulls her computer towards her and opens up a file. "Onto some maintenance. Are you doing okay with your medication?"

"Yeah, I think I have an appointment with the med psych later this month."

"Yes, I see that here. Any side-effects or changes you want to note?"

"No."

"Okay, then. Take care of yourself, Cal. I know you don't want to hear this, but decisions you make at this point of your life will affect you for a long time. Try to take a beat before you make any big ones, okay?"

I don't say anything as I scoop up my bag and leave.