She stands on the edge of the subway platform, intrigued by how fast the trains race by. The alluring thought that this can all be over. The anger, hate, and emptiness. That somehow if she died it would prove something. The perfect form of revenge - because maybe, just maybe, they’ll finally hurt as much as she has. It’ll come out of nowhere, no one will see it coming. It’s always easier to be the one that orchestrates the heartbreak than to not see it coming at all.

Seems like no matter how many years go by, these thoughts come timely as October hits. And as the number of years increases, the more she realizes that everyone’s changed. Everyone’s moved on, or at least they’re trying to. Her mother is certainly trying to, desperately trying to redefine their relationship. 

It feeds an anger in her that hurts deeply. She asks herself “isn’t this everything I’ve ever wanted?” Everything she’s worked so hard for? For mommy dearest to love her? Here she is, rejecting it all. Why? Because she doesn’t really love her? Or perhaps It’s too late?

“Is it because your mom is unable to love you? Or is it that you’re unable to let her love you?” the question piercing the silence. I hold my breath, and let it sink in a little.

“It’s me. I can’t.”

“Because it’s still too dangerous” posed as a statement rather than the expected question.

“It feels like it always will be.”

“It’s scary Brenda. I know. She was incapable to love you then, when you needed her the most.”

“I know she wants to love me, I know she does. She’s trying so hard and she has been for years now. She reaches out every fall, and I hear it in her voice. Hesitant, and filled with guilt, regret… but I can’t, not even this year. But it’s worse because this year I know that it’s me not letting her in. Even though there’s no threat anymore, she’s no longer the psycho killer mom in my dreams. But I still can’t let her in.”

“But it was scary. And it’s okay that you’re upset.”

“Ha, what even about? Like come on - get over it, it’s been 9 years Brenda. Why can’t I just get over it.”

“No Brenda, getting kicked out isn’t what’s upsetting you. You’re upset because the damage has been done, and she might never know, but your upbringing and what happened to you, it follows you every day through your interactions. You’re upset because she was supposed to be the first person to show you the feeling of love, but she failed you. And you wanted it, in fact, you needed it, as all children do. You’re upset because no one taught you it’s okay to be loved. And you still believe that you’re unlovable.”

So there it is. The root of it all. “You still believe that you’re unloveable.”

Upsetting, because theoretically she knows she has a lot to offer, she know she should feel like she’s worth loving. Despite all the evidence and people telling her otherwise, there’s an unexplainable feeling of truth constantly whispering, “I’m not worth loving”. And she has mommy dearest to thank for that. Boo hoo, baby Brenda was desperate for love, only to be laughed at, rejected by none other than her parents.

Susan cuts off her thoughts. 

“But you want it Brenda. Love, you want to accept it. I know it - I see it here. That’s why you went over to that boy’s place after our last session. Because here, we play the dynamic through the transference. I know you come because I give that to you. And when you left, you literally went to be held.”

Like a baby. Being coddled when upset. 

The sudden realization hits that she orchestrates love because the real thing is too scary - too dangerous. Her and Susan have a professional relationship. She has lovers in her life roleplaying a nurturing parental figure. She traded in boys for business men. Chasing for their approvals only to be disappointed and bored when achieved. Instead, she is forever captivated by those unwilling to give in to the chase because her primary love-narrative is of the unrequited kind. 

We accept the love we think we deserve.

And in the depths of her psyche, nurtured by an unloving mother, she thinks she’s undeserving of love.