Although I was struggling to breathe, it felt good to laugh and clear the tension that’d been almost exploding out of me previously. I still needed to follow through on my decision and get help. I needed to fix what I’d done to Ariana this morning, and I needed to organize my life so that I had control of all of it. But damn, it felt good to think about it with a bit of positivity in my mind.
“Dale, you’re the best brother in the world,” I said through the laughter, meaning every word of it.
“Fucking right, doggy,” he muttered. “Now, tell me what happened to bring this life change we were discussing on, and then we’ll break it down and get shit sorted.”
So, lying on my back on the bed that smelled like Ari, I went back to when I’d first noticed her as a woman. That moved onto all of the shit that’d happened between us, what areas of my life I needed to fix, and where I wanted to get to. He was with me every step of the way, throwing ideas at me while he researched therapists and looked at their credentials.
The issue I’d had before was that the therapist I’d seen as a kid was one of my stepmother’s friends, so my ‘treatment’ had been pathetic and caused more damage. I’d seen a therapist independently while I was at med school, but something like this took long term therapy and wouldn’t ever be an easily fixed situation. So, any therapist who took me on needed to know their shit and also be completely independent from my dad’s wife.
The one Dale found was all of those and more, and a little bit more of the weight on my shoulders lifted. I’d been carrying it around for years, living a life where I’d assumed what I had was okay, when it was so far from it that it was the opposite of okay. Now the prospect of freedom gave me the extra motivation to do this and see it through.
“While we’re discussing first steps,” Dale said, drawing me out of my thoughts. “I think you need to text Ariana now before it festers and say something to explain it all.”
The thought of her knowing my secret made my gut turn to stone. “I can’t do that. She’ll be disgusted, Dale.”
The sound of frustration he made—one I’d heard repeatedly over the years about what had happened—made me tense even more. Instead of telling me just to do it, though, he said something that made complete sense.
“No, you’re not telling her shit like that by text. Jesus Christ, Parker, that’s just fucked up. What I’m saying is that you need to tell her this morning was a surprise, and you reacted badly, but that you’re going to make it right.”
My phone was already on speaker, so I swiped up the screen and hit the messaging icon, finding her name on the list quickly. “Okay, I’ll read it out to you when I’m done.”
“I’ll just sit here looking at the pile of wool and knitting patterns I’ve got. Shout me when you’re ready.”
It took me quite a few rounds of editing and changes, but I finally got there.
“Okay, how’s this? Ari, waking up with you this morning was a shock, but not a bad one. What was bad was how I reacted to it and then didn’t explain it like I should have. I’m so fucking sorry! I have some shit I need to fix, but I’m going to make it up to you. Actions speak louder than words, right? I’ll find something that yells how sorry I am.”
“You sound awkward, but it still sounds good. Put a heart or a kiss at the end of it before you send it. It makes it more emotional than just a guy talking shit to not look like an asshole.”
Figuring he was right, I added a heart and hit send.
“Done. Now I’ve got to make an appointment to see Doctor Chahal.”
The next six months weren’t easy. Building trust in a new doctor, regardless of how trustworthy they seemed, wasn’t easy, but I got there. Once I let my walls down and told him my story, my new doctor helped me understand it and put it all into perspective. That was the first step to recovery: understanding the situation and working on regaining all the control I’d lost. I explained how I was living my life and why and realized there were a lot of adjustments to be made that I hadn’t even thought were a problem.
When the opportunity to move my residency to a hospital twenty-five minutes away from where Ariana lived came up, with my therapist's approval, I applied for it, got it, and then transferred to a therapist there, too. Ariana hadn’t seemed happy when she’d found out about my move, but I was slowly getting through to her.