Out of the closet

I always hated the notion of therapy. I mean seriously, can't you just figure it out by yourself? When I was 16 my parents sent me to a therapist. I was angry according to them. I sat in that therapsit office and listened to my mother and father tell the therapist how horrible it was to be in the same home as me. Does he do drugs? No. Does he drink ? No.Is he in trouble with the law? No. Does he get into fights at school? No. He's just so angry! Well, I'm not going to lie I was a little annoyed. Maybe it was because at a young age I was called stupid. Maybe it was because at a young age (11 and then at13 )to be exact my mother left my father and I. Maybe it was because when my dad got angry he would knock me across a room. It was all there in my head. I just never said a word. I wanted out of there. So I sat for weeks while I listened to my parents speak of how living in a home with me was torture. I guess this unwillingness to engage is what gave me my dissasociative disorder label. For those who don't know , whenever there is contested child custody, the courts usual response is to leave the child with the mother and order both parents to partake in counseling. So for a year I rarely got to see my son for extended periods of time. I did go see him everyday for lunch at daycare but that was it. When I started counseling my mood was at an all time low. I had very little strength . My normal deffiant guard was low and I just gave in. My therapist sat down with me. She had read my file. She had read the court documents. "Mr Krausz, how were you disciplined growing up? I mean, I understand restriction. I understand taking away priveledges, what I'm getting at is what methods did your parents use that most significantly standout in your mind." I described a time that my mother had gotten mad at me for playing in the kitchen while she was on the phone. She got off the phone looked at me and yelled"damn you to hell Tommy." she than grabbed my arm and dragged me into the coat clost in her bedroom. The lights went off and the door was locked. I remember screaming. I remember crying. I remember wetting my pants. I think I finally fell asleep. My next memory is being put in a cold shower to clean off my mess, all the while my mother chastised me for making a mess. When I was done with my story I looked up. My therapist looked at me with complete disbelief. "Ok. You do realize thats pretty bad right?" I shrugged my shoulders said "yeah I guess. I've never realy thought about it" "And your father? Or was this your mothers domain. The discipline that is." It was always hit and miss with my dad I told her. I could break a window and he would just chuckle and we both would fix it. Or sometimes he would make me do chores. The funny thing was that when he has angry it was scary. He never cursed. He would grab me by the hair and drag me. He would slap me on my head. Sometimes he pushed my head against the door of the car if I was in the seat next to him. It was never consistant though. Sometimes he would just rage. He would explode out of nowhere. If I was with friends he would make sure to humiliate me. I never understood it. His anger seemed like it came out of left field. And of course there was names. When I was 8 I accidently filled out the wrong answer sheet on a stadardized test. It was so obvious. My father when he initially saw the score said "a monkey could have done better. You're as dumb as a monkey." I endured that for about 3 weeks. "So Mr. Krausz, you do realize that this is highly abusive correct?" "yeah I guess." I said. "I mean I was never hit with a belt and I was given a alot of opportunity." "Well that sounds like a response that has been drilled into your head." was her response We talked for a good 2 hours that first day. The more I uncovered the more she made me pause and take another look at it. I was raised to be grateful for everything I got. I was always told that I was loved but at the same time I was told I wasn't smart . If I suceeded at sports or school it was high praise. Presents and accolades . When I failed I was a loser. I never should have been adopted. I was going to amount to nothing, and my favorite, you're stupid. My therapist sent me home that day with a to do list. List every quality about yourself that you like. Use as much paper as you'd like. Expand on your list as well. I paused. I looked at her with tears in my eyes. "You don't love yourself Mr. Krausz. You don't even like yourself. You've never been shown true unconditional love. We need to get your mind back on track so that doesn't happen to your son. Take that paper and list why you don't love yourself. I'll see you in 2 days."