Who: Eddie and NPC therapist. When: Monday morning Where: An office in Vallo city. What: Eddie talks it out. Or starts to. Warnings: Slight internalized homophobia.
"I don't know where to start," Eddie said, and there was a long silence between the two of them.
"I can't help you if you can't tell me what's going on," the therapist said finally, kindly. "Looking at your medical history, it seems like you're probably comfortable in a medical setting. Look at it like that; tell me your symptoms."
Eddie hadn't thought about it like that; mental health had always been some nebulous, unfathomable thing, nothing like his medical diagnoses. But maybe she was right and he could approach this like any medical issue.
"All right," he said after a pause. "There's a history of anxiety surrounding cleanliness and health. A family history of..." he trailed off, frown growing across his face. "Lying to me about what my medical issues are. I couldn't tell you what on there is real and what's my mother's control," he gestured at the intake forms. "She told me I have these things so they're part of my history."
The therapist nodded, and then she added, "and what about any current symptoms you've been having? You're telling me your history - your mother isn't here, is she?"
Eddie shook his head, relieved to say the least.
"Tell me about now."
A deep breath and Eddie told her, "current symptoms are jealousy, self-loathing, and fear."
She nodded. Finally, they could start to work.
"Tell me about the jealousy."
Eddie took a deep breath and nodded. "My - Richie, he's here, he's been here for a while now. And he's dating someone here."
A pause while she took notes. "And you were partners in your home world?" And Eddie had to shake his head at that, but it was so hard to explain.
"No, I have a wife."
The therapist nodded in sudden understanding. "And you miss her, you wish she was here?"
Eddie couldn't help how quickly and vehemently he said, "god, no." Her confusion at that was palpable.
"Talk to me, Eddie," she told him and he breathed out a heavy sigh.
"This is the hard part," Eddie told her. "The clown, my mom's Munchausen's, the anxiety, dying and coming back... that's easier. But my wife, and Richie, and this whole..." He swallowed hard, staring very pointedly at a spot on the floor between where he sat and the therapist's feet. "I don't love my wife. I've never loved her the way that a husband is supposed to love a wife."
"And why do you think you married her?"
Eddie shrugged. "Because I was supposed to marry a woman? Because she reminds me of my mother and... that's the only kind of relationship with a woman that makes sense to me."
"And Richie?"
"Richie," Eddie tipped his head back, looking up at the ceiling. "Was my everything. We were so close, we were inseparable. But it was 20, 30 years ago and you just didn't do that... I don't even think I knew, until I was dying and I wanted to tell him that I loved him. And it turns out he loved me, but I died and he came here and met someone and got over me. I've just buried this for so long. I can't even say I'm," he shook his head.
"You're what, Eddie?"
"I'm gay," he said after a second, his voice breaking on the word.
"You just did say it," she pointed out, smiling gently at him. "How do you feel?"