jadyn miller’s Reviews > I Think My Therapist Hates Me: A Memoir > Status Update

The truth is that, in a way, I became addicted to lan's abuse. I needed routine, stability, a coherent story that I could use to make sense of the world, and lan's story, whether he told it in words or through his actions, was that I wasn't good enough. When he was no longer there to tell me this story, I began looking for someone else to tell it to me. I didn't have to look far.

😞😞

I knew it was over. That was that. In spite of how
addicted I was to alcohol and cocaine, I was still Chris. I was still the little boy who loved his family. Who just wanted to fit in. Who just wanted the pain to stop. Who just wanted to feel normal. The version of Chris I'm told was always laughing, who rarely cried, who loved expressing himself, who had so much love for everyone.

oh chris olsen ❤️‍🩹

I knew it was over. That was that. In spite of how
addicted I was to alcohol and cocaine, I was still Chris. I was still the little boy who loved his family. Who just wanted to fit in. Who just wanted the pain to stop. Who just wanted to feel normal. The version of Chris I'm told was always laughing, who rarely cried, who loved expressing himself, who had so much love for everyone.

oh chris olsen ❤️‍🩹

“I worry that there is a very big part of you that doesn't want Christopher to get better, because his struggles have given you a sense of purpose and a way to hide your manipulative behavior behind something 'good. But what you're doing is not beneficial to either Christopher or Caroline. It's continuing a pattern of abuse. So how do we break that?"

"Well, I'm going to say that I don't think you were held accountable at any of them. Because if you had been, you would not be lashing out like this. I think the reality is that many of this family's problems can be traced back to your selfish actions.”

We'd texted throughout the summer, but of course I hadn't told her the full extent of my drug usage. She didn't know I was getting no sleep and doing a gram of coke a night. But she didn't need to know that to tell I wasn't doing well. She could see it in my tired, unseeing eyes. I was a zombie. I wasn't ever really where I was. I was always elsewhere, contending with the darker angels of my nature.

chris 😞

I didn’t need to be the best; I just couldn’t be the worst. I needed other people to think, “You know what? That Chris Olsen kid belongs here.” If I could do that, I thought, then I’d be just fine.

i genuinely have been pondering on this a lot

As much as I missed my mom and desperately wanted to be accepted for who I was—I also made choices. How we respond to the things that are done to us is a choice. As children and young adults, the choices we make often aren’t dictated by logic or reason. Instead, I think they’re attempts to escape from the suffocating grip of all the things that have hurt us, no matter who we have to claw past on our way out.

I would sit there for hours and friend request everyone Facebook told me l might maybe kind of sort of potentially know, obsessed with the idea of having one hundred friends, five hundred friends, one thousand friends. How many digital buddies could I collect? How popular could I become? In real life, was becoming an outsider, but Facebook was the great leveler.

She said a lot of things, most of which I didn't hear, or couldn't hear, or wouldn't hear. The general shape of what she was saying was that she was sorry. Sorry that I was here in the first place. Sorry that I had to see her like this. Sorry that she wasn't being the mom I needed her to be. Sorry that she was an alcoholic. The longer she spoke, the more numb I became.

🥹🥹