Back in the therapist’s office, they were asked a few introduction questions. She answered them as honestly as she thought she could without upsetting her boyfriend. He was more vague in his answers, shifting blame and playing things down. There was some truth in what he said, but she still felt that she got more out of the session than he did. As that first hour came to a close, the therapist expressed that she felt the following session would be more beneficial if they separated it in to two half hour solo sessions with her. They would each go in on their own and have the space they each needed to express themselves properly.
He didn’t say anything to the therapist, but she knew he wasn’t a fan of that idea. While, of course, she had no problem with it. They left the session and scheduled another one a month from then. As soon as they got in the car, he began berating her about how horrible the therapist was while simultaneously throwing things she had said back in her face.
“I knew it would be like that. I knew she would take your side on everything. And what do you mean you were desperate when you met me? That’s the only reason we’re together? You were desperate?!” To her surprise, however, he didn’t write it off right then. He was angry but he was still willing to put in the work.
A month went by with some ups and downs, but overall it was fairly uneventful in regard to any fighting or big outbursts. The day of their next appointment, she came home from her morning shift to pick him up and they left right away for their session. Upon arrival, they found that the door was locked. Immediately he was angry. She ignored him and called the office. The receptionist answered and she asked why the door was locked.
“Oh. Do you have an appointment today?” the receptionist asked her. “Yes, that’s why we’re here…” she replied, trying not to be short with this idiot woman asking redundant questions. She knew that their predicament wasn’t the receptionists fault, but her guard was already up as she worried about her boyfriend’s reaction.
The receptionist came and unlocked the door. As they entered with her, she explained that all the counsellors and therapists were out at a training course that day. Someone was supposed to have contacted them to reschedule but no one had. She could see her boyfriend twitching, trying to keep his anger in check. He stated bluntly, “We should get a free session out of this. This is ridiculous. If we had canceled with no notice, we would have been charged, no question.”
To their surprise and delight, the Director (or whatever his title was) was standing in the back of the office and had heard the entire conversation. He came over and told them that her boyfriend was right, and he would be happy to comp them a free session at the next available opening in their therapist’s schedule. This satisfied everyone and they rescheduled the appointment for two weeks later. Even so, they left and he was not happy. “I’m never going to therapy again. They’re all fucked, they’re so unorganized. Fuck that.” So much for working on their relationship…
Throughout the next two weeks, things really started to unravel. They were fighting more and more. Their poor, anxious dog stuck in the middle of it, barking her head off and running back and forth across the apartment as they screamed at each other. He kept yo-yoing back and forth – he’s coming to therapy, no he’s not coming, yes he is coming, etc.
Their rescheduled appointment was on a Wednesday morning in early December. She went to work that morning and when getting in her car after her morning shift, she texted him; “I’m leaving now. Are you coming to therapy?” No reply. She got back to the apartment around 9am. He was still sleeping; the bedroom door was closed. Their appointment wasn’t until 11am so she sat down to watch a short show after having made herself a tea. For fear of him getting mad at her for what he would call “bursting in on him” and waking him up, she texted him again instead. “I’m going with or without you. But I hope you do come.” By the time she had to leave, he still hadn’t replied. Fuck him if he thought by ignoring her, she just wouldn’t go.
So she left. She went to the appointment alone. She spent the entire hour just bitching about him. Crying, shouting, justifying… After a few moments of silence, her therapist stated that she was not in the habit of telling couples they needed to break up. However, this was not a relationship she saw a future for. In fact, she even recommended moving her to the Domestic Violence folder. Doing so would allow her to continue coming to counselling at no cost to her. On one hand, she was happy to have the option to keep coming to counselling, on the other, it was a stark reality check that she was, in fact, in an abusive relationship. Until that moment, she had never said that word out loud to herself about him. She left feeling more confused than comforted.
The evening prior, during yet another fight, her boyfriend had angrily expressed that after the therapy session that he was refusing to go to, she was to come directly home so he could take the car to do groceries without her. She said she didn’t care, but that she had to stop at the post office before coming home so she could return a Christmas gift she had bought him that her mother had also bought. Walking to the parking lot as she left therapy, she texted him again. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come pick you up and we can grab some groceries together?” She headed over to the post office and checked her phone when she parked. Still no reply. She went in and waited ten minutes in line. She sent off the duplicate Christmas gift and headed back out to the parking lot. Checking her phone again, he still hadn’t replied. She decided then to go to the grocery store for herself and grab a few things since she wasn’t sure what his plan was.
As she pulled into the grocery store parking lot she sent him yet another text. “I just pulled in to the grocery store. I will leave right now to come get you and come back here again if you’d like? I don’t mind.” She waited in her car for several minutes. Again, no reply. So, she went and did a few groceries for herself. All the while, she picked up a few things for him as well. She knew he was out of bell peppers, baby carrots, and cereal. She wasn’t sure what else he needed but he said he was coming to do groceries by himself, so whatever she missed, he could grab afterwards. She didn’t take very long, and she headed back home.
She had barely dropped the grocery bags on the counter before he threw the bedroom door open, storming out of the darkness into the kitchen. He rummaged through the bags, tossing everything out in a frantic frenzy. “YOU COULDN’T GET ME ANYTHING?!?! IT’S ALL FOR YOU! YOU GOT YOURSELF TWO BAGS OF POPCORN BUT COULDN’T EVEN GET ME ANY CANS OF SOUP!?!!” he screamed at her. He grabbed one of the bags of popcorn and angrily, erratically, vigorously ripped it open. Popcorn flew all over the kitchen. In the sink. On the counter. Everywhere.
And that was it. That was the moment the rage set in and everything went dark…