THIRTY-FIVE
The next few weeks aren’t as painful as I thought they would be. Brent and Evans’s conversation really did help put a lot of things into perspective for me, and I know I need the time to get focused on fixing my own issues—something that I’ve been avoiding for a long time now.
I decide to follow their advice and move on. Or at least try to. I spend a good amount of time doing a lot of other things apart from fighting, like going on my usual morning jogs to get a healthy dose of vitamin D every day. I’ve incorporated other stuff into my schedule, like meditating. I never thought in a million years I’d find myself picking up the activity, but it’s a good thing for me to practice, especially after a busy and chaotic day. I’ve also been doing a lot of cooking. When I was living with Kayden, he usually prepared all the food, so it’s nice to finally take control of my own meals.
A routine that doesn’t involve fighting has brought a nice sense of calm and stability that was long overdue in my otherwise hectic life. I still hit the bags once in a while at UFG when I start to feel overwhelmed again, but at least I’m also able to balance it out with other things now.
Everything finally feels like it’s slowly getting back into order.
Well, for the most part. There’s something else that has been nagging me still.
Something I’ve been avoiding for a long time now—and something that my dad has been pestering me about lately.
“Therapy,” he suggests, his smooth voice seeping through the phone. “I should have offered it to you back when your mom and I separated, but I didn’t think you needed it. I guess I was wrong.”
“Dad,” I say with uncertainty. “I’m not exactly a big fan of talking to some stranger I barely know about my problems.”
“You barely talk to me about your problems, Sienna.” A resigned sigh pulls its way out of his lungs.
“That’s because I didn’t think you’d even want to hear them,” I reply dryly. “I always figured you were too busy planning your next wedding and all.”
I hear Alyson shout a distant She’s right, though! through the phone. I love Alyson and how she can joke about my dad’s previous marriages while having unshakable confidence that this will be the last marriage he’ll ever have. I see how they are with each other, and they’re solid.
“But seriously, I think it’ll finally allow you to confront all that resentment you’ve had since the divorce. And maybe also help you move on from your breakup,” he advises. I open my mouth, already wanting to protest his suggestion but he beats me to it, adding in a gruff, fatherly voice, “Before you say fighting helps, think again. You were in a toxic relationship for three years with a man who only treated you well when it was convenient for him. And you brought that toxicity into another relationship, which broke the both of you up. Doesn’t seem like fighting’s been helping you after all.”
I snap my mouth shut, his words silencing me momentarily.
Fuck, I hate it when he’s right. And I’m usually reluctant to admit whenever he is, but this time, I might be willing to mull it over.
As much as I love fighting and it has proven to be an addictive escape, I’m starting to realize that it has always been just that. An escape. Something that allows me to release all my pent-up emotions but that will never allow me to truly face them in a way that I need.
I’m not going to deny that fighting is still my life. I will never trade it for anything else in the world.
But I can’t rely on it to fix everything anymore.
“I know it’s scary. But I truly think it’ll be really good for you.” My dad’s voice softens, easing some of my fears.
I continue to stay silent. I promised myself a new beginning, so while it sounds frightening, it seems to be the necessary next step for me right now.
“Fine,” I grumble. “I’ll do it.”
“That’s my girl,” he says with a light tone, and I can almost picture him breaking into a smile.
And that is the only reassurance I need.
I owe it to him to figure it out. I owe it to my family.
Because ever since my parents’ divorce, I realize I haven’t been able to fully tame the volatility of my emotions. Instead, I placed my focus on other things—like fighting, like Jax.
Maybe that’s why when I was with him, I felt like I could never stand on my own two feet. I was strong, physically speaking, but mentally I needed him to give me all my validation.
Maybe that was why I was angry when he left me. So much angrier at him than I was with Beth. Because I had given him so much of myself that I didn’t know how to function with less than what I had.
I’m sure it will get easier. With time.
***
Sessions with Dr. Rosenthal, my psychiatrist, have been easier than expected. I see her about twice a week to reflect on recent events. It’s only been a couple of sessions since my first, and I do feel a sense of calm now, with a more comprehensive understanding of myself and why I get reactive in certain situations.