After that, the guests sang to Travis.
He made a special wish and blew out all the candles.
Louis wondered about his wish. He remembered being his age and wishing for a toy dinosaur he once saw in a catalog.
His sister helped cut the cake and pass the slices out to each guest. When everyone was done eating, the adults kicked back in their chairs to talk, while the kids let loose in the play area.
Poor Louis didn’t feel like he fit in with either group. Obviously, he was an adult, but he still felt like a child. What could he do, though? He wasn’t going to hop onto the slide–he had no choice but to sit with the other adults and try his best to blend in with them.
He sat there, while his cousins talked about football. He wasn’t really into sports, so there wasn’t much he could add to the conversation. Somehow, though, he managed to slip in a comment or two before his attention began to dwindle.
He could hear the sound of their voices and see the opening and closing movements of their mouths, but he had no clue what they were really saying.
Louis’ odd tendency to blank out in the middle of a conversation happened so many times that his relatives thought he simply had a bad case of ADHD. The irony of it was that his brain was twice as good as theirs–he’d just never been given the chance to show it. If, for once, they’d talk about something interesting, they’d quickly see he was quite capable of staying focused on a topic.
After the party, his mom and his younger sister, Karen, began to clear the table and take down the party decorations. Instead of helping, Louis’ dad used this time to interrogate him.
“You got your brother a gift, right?” he asked.
“Yeah, but I was going to give it to him on his birthday,” Louis replied.
“What’d you get him?” his sister interjected, lifting her head up.
“It’s just a little action figure from the dollar store.”
“The dollar store?” his dad scoffed, laughing and shaking his head, “Your brother isn’t worth much to you, is he?”
Louis used to get furious over his father’s biting remarks, but whenever he’d voice his anger in the past, he’d get picked apart for it every time.
After a while, he’d realized it’d be a whole lot easier to just sit there and take it–but at what cost?
Louis wished he had known there were consequences. Maybe, then, he would have thought twice before burying his feelings so deep.
Now, he was so detached from them that he could barely recognize them as his own, and because of this, he had a hard time trusting them.
Like his mom, Louis’ dad had few to none parenting skills. When he was angry, he was a raging lunatic. The man would yell and swear at his children all day long, and then, wonder why none of them showed him any respect.
Always, he was the victim, the martyr, and the saint. In his eyes, he was capable of doing no wrong. He expected them to fulfill his every need, while doing nothing to fulfill theirs.
Guilt was often used as a ploy to manipulate them into doing what he wanted. For example, on Fathers’ Day, it wasn’t enough for Louis to wish his dad a happy fathers’ day–he had to get him a tangible gift, too.
If not, he’d get an earful, and it would usually sound something like this, “This is the thanks I get after everything I’ve done for you.”
When he was growing up, Louis always hated the arguing and fighting that went on between him and his dad, but it was the banter and the gas-lighting he couldn’t stand the most.
During his childhood and adolescent years, these forms of mental abuse had all but destroyed his self-esteem. Often, he wondered if he’d be better off without a dad at all. What would he really be missing by him not being there? Probably not a whole lot.
On the other hand, he knew what he wouldn’t be missing–a healthy self-image, a guilt-free conscience, and a positive outlook on life.
Narcissistic parents may not have good parenting skills, but they are very good at what they do. Louis’ parents had wounded him in ways he’d never even thought possible. The damaging effects of his childhood were ever-present, and they hung over him like a dark cloud every day.
Chapter Two
Late that afternoon, Louis returned to his apartment. It was a huge relief to be away from all those people. Life was always so much easier when he was alone. Socializing was hard and a whole lot more complicated than it was made out to be.
Because of his increased sense of awareness, Louis was able to see more than the average person. He could tell when a person was lying and sense difficult emotions that had long been restrained beginning to resurface. It was confusing to be told one thing, only to have the person’s body language tell him another.
Even though he hadn’t done much socializing, the party still took a lot out of him. His mind had been on constant lookout for even the slightest threat, scanning every word, every look, every unsettling vibe that came his way. When he wasn’t fidgeting in his seat, he could be seen rubbing his neck or twiddling his thumbs.
It wasn’t just other people he was worried about, though–he was concerned about the kinds of messages his own body was sending out. In the past, people had mistaken his anxiety for despondency and his solemnity for misery.
All afternoon, he had waited for someone to comment about his face, but no one ever did.
Louis wanted to sleep through the rest of the day and forget about the party. He refused to dwell on his mistakes.
Crawling up into a ball, he was out like a light.
When he woke up the next morning, he remembered his crummy little job. On this particular day, he had to be there by nine o’clock. Working at a fast food chain was anything but pleasant. The whole setup was a breeding ground for panic attacks. With rude customers, self-absorbed coworkers, taxing work, and a meager salary, he was on the verge of quitting every day.
His coworkers didn’t understand him, and they never missed an opportunity to let him know how incompetent he was. They’d tell him, “You’re too slow,” “you need to pick up the pace,” or “you do everything the hard way.”
He was very sensitive to these kinds of remarks but didn’t know how to make them stop. It was all he could do to stand there and take it, without saying a word.
Whenever he could, Louis stayed in the kitchen. He didn’t mind preparing food, washing dishes, or even taking out the trash, so long as he didn’t have to be out in the front tending to customers.
He’d heard too many stories about innocent clerks being attacked for something the cooks didn’t do right, and he didn’t want to end up like them. He couldn’t imagine being blamed for something he didn’t do.
That day, he was running the register out front. He didn’t know how it happened, but, somehow, he ended up there. For as long as he could remember, cash registers scared him like the plague–they were products of man-made technology that were liable to break.
If a situation like that ever happened to him, he’d be left to his own devices. Anxiety would likely impair his ability to function, making it nearly impossible for him to think rationally and come up with a solution.
Before long, the customer would get angry with him, causing his panic to further escalate. The whole scenario was like a bad nightmare.
Expecting things to go wrong can be a self-fulfilling prophecy. For Louis, this was often the case, and today was no exception.]
When a woman ordered a burger and a drink, he unknowingly hit the combo button that included the fries.
She handed him her credit card, and he charged the amount to it, without realizing what he’d just done.
When the woman stepped off to the side to review her receipt, she noticed that Louis charged her extra for something she hadn’t ordered. Walking back to the counter, she explained the problem to him.
Straightaway, he panicked.
A knot formed in the pit of Louis’ stomach, as his thoughts blurred together. In this state, he knew he was as good as useless.
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br /> Then, out of nowhere, he had an idea–he’d enlist the help of his coworkers. Sure, it’d be embarrassing, but what other choice did he have?
As he scurried to the back, Louis could only hope they weren’t outside smoking again.
When he returned home that afternoon, he felt a bit sad. At the time, he’d been so relieved that his coworker stepped in to rescue him, but now, there were other feelings involved.
The more he thought about how well she’d handled the situation, the more jealous he became. She’d been able to stay calm the whole time, and he wanted to know how she’d done it.
It wasn’t just her that he envied, though. He felt the same way about all of his coworkers. They had friends to hang out with and parties to attend. There was always something for them to do on the weekends.
His coworkers never thought twice about breaking the rules. They did whatever they wanted, without any fear of being judged or reprimanded for it. These people had something Louis could never hope to obtain, and that was freedom–the freedom to feel fully, act rationally, and live authentically.
If slow traffic and bad weather were the only things to get down about, he’d be the happiest man alive.
Louis’ life was a completely different story. For someone like him, it was a struggle just to get up in the morning, knowing that the day ahead would be filled with endless worry and anxiety.
For someone with social anxiety, simple, every day activities were both complicated and terrifying. For example, Louis couldn’t just go out for a walk whenever he wanted. There was a lot of mental preparation involved.
First, he’d have to consider the risk of running into one of his neighbors and not knowing what to say. He’d have to rehearse the whole conversation in his head, until he felt comfortable enough to face the chance encounter in real time.
The disorder was so debilitating that it affected nearly every aspect of his life. Louis couldn’t read a book out in public, order a pizza over the phone, or make friends with anyone his age.
He’d overthink insignificant events and meaningless conversations he’d had with people throughout the day, until his mind wielded its meanest and ugliest interpretations of them all.
He just couldn’t get his head wrapped around the fact that he had it so hard, while everyone else had it so easy. Why was he so different than all of them? Wasn’t he, also, a human being? His arms and legs told him as much, but that seemed to be where their likenesses ended.
With all of the problems he had to face, Louis probably needed more love and encouragement in one day than most people need in a lifetime–but, he had no one.
He was all alone in the world.
Suddenly, it struck him. It didn’t matter what he did or how long he waited. His problems would never go away on their own. As much as he hated to admit it, Louis knew he needed help. I can’t do this alone…I can’t live like this anymore.
Louis picked up his laptop and set it on his lap.
As he scrolled down a long list of local therapists, his eyes were glued to the screen. Upon further review, he was disappointed to find that many of the disorders listed for treatment didn’t apply to him.
He wasn’t schizophrenic, alcoholic, or suicidal, but after seeing these disorders listed repeatedly, he almost wished he was. Then, at least, he’d be able to get some help.
Just as his heart began to sink, one therapist’s description caught his eye. He thought this one looked promising. He silently read the description to himself once before reading it out loud:
“Susan Wilson is a licensed therapist who treats anxiety disorders, agoraphobia, depression, trauma, addictions, and OCD.”
As he read it, a smile formed over Louis’ mouth, and for the first time in a long time, there was life in his eyes. At last, he had a reason to hope. Hmm, this could really work!
His excitement fell short, though, when he realized that in order to start therapy, he’d have to call the therapist to schedule an appointment. There was nothing in the world that he couldn’t stand more than making phone calls. Just the mere thought of it was enough to bring on a massive panic attack.
Usually, he had to work so hard to hide his problems from strangers, but this was different. He couldn’t ask for help, unless he willingly acknowledged the fact that he was dealing with some serious mental issues.
What scared him more than anything, though, was the thought of having to go into detail about each one.
Louis didn’t like the idea of someone knowing there was something wrong with him, even if that someone was a therapist.
Still, if he ever hoped to get better, he’d have to stop playing games and hiding behind a mask. He knew that meant he’d have to start opening up and sharing intimate details about himself he’d rather keep hidden from the rest of the world. He didn’t know if he could do it, but he, at least, wanted to try.
Right away, Louis could hear the violent protests of his inner critic. His words were much more pronounced and callous than usual.
For the first time, he was scared and terrified of losing to the inner child.
Therapy was dangerous. It was a relatively new concept that posed a great threat to his existence. He’d have to find a way to talk Louis out of it before it destroyed him.
Immediately, he set to work, digging up useful information within the hidden resources of his victim’s mind. Upon doing so, the critic found a million reasons why Louis shouldn’t go through with it.
Desperate, he threw them at him all at once. Therapy won’t do anything. It’s just a ploy for rich people to make money. It would be really dumb to think that you could trust this therapist with your problems. It’s not like she’s a friend. You haven’t even met her! Besides, what kind of a friend makes you pay her just to listen? Well, I guess you wouldn’t know anything about that, since you’ve never had any friends.
You don’t have to go through with this. I promise if you just stay where you are, you’ll be fine. You’ll be safe, and that’s all that matters. I’ve kept you safe this long, haven’t I? You just need to trust me.
Louis shuddered. For all these years, his critic had kept him safe, but it had kept him unhappy, as well. Deep down, he knew that he, somehow, needed a balance between the two–he needed to feel safe, but he needed to feel happy, too. Maybe therapy would help him with this.
At any rate, he needed to find a way to stop his critic’s attempts to talk him out of it before he’d start believing the lies. A healthy distraction would be ideal.
He needed to hear the sound of reason from a loved one in order to keep his negative thinking to a minimum. Since his parents could not help him with this, he decided he’d call his sister.
He knew she’d listen.
“Hello?” she said, answering her phone.
“Hey, Karen. I just called to talk for a little,” he said.
“Oh, cool. What are you doing?”
“I was just looking for a therapist in my area.”
“Wow! You’re starting therapy?”
“I’m not sure. I’d like to, but I’m kind of scared. I keep thinking about all the things that could go wrong.”
“Have you found any good therapists?”
“I think so. I really don’t want to call, though,” he sighed.
“I know what you mean. I hate making phone calls! I worry that I’ll forget what to say or end up saying something stupid.”
“I’m almost certain that will happen to me if I call,” Louis sighed again, “I really want to try this, but it just feels so out of my reach.”
“I think you should do it. If you don’t, you might really regret it someday.”
“You’re right, but why does it have to be so hard?”
“It’s hard,” she repeated, “but I know you can do it.”
“Thanks,” he replied, “I’m having a hard time believing that, though.”
“That’s why you need to go,” she pressed him.
An uncomfortable silence followed, and t
hey could hear each other breathing. Karen noticed that Louis’ breathing was more like panting.
“Well, I guess I just needed to talk to someone. I’m getting tired, so I’ll get going for now.”
“Okay. You can call me any time, Louis. Good luck.”
“Thanks, Karen,” he said sincerely.
Their conversation made Louis think of his aunt.
When they were kids, she used to watch them, while their parents were at work. Back then, they loved staying with her because of all the candy bars and cookies she gave them. In time, though, Louis realized she’d given them a whole lot more than material goods–she’d given them their souls.
She’d been the only adult in their lives to treat them with respect, and by modeling exemplary traits like humility and empathy, she’d rescued them from many of the narcissistic tendencies of their parents.
If it wasn’t for her, he couldn’t dream of having a sister in which he could confide. Instead of encouraging him, she’d likely minimize his feelings and make light of his problems, just like his parents did.
From what Louis knew about the spreading of narcissism, children of narcissistic parents often become narcissists themselves. As these kids were growing up, they had no decent role models to help them counteract the faulty beliefs of their horrendous upbringings.
With no one there to teach them about basic human rights, they became heartless, soulless beings, incapable of feeling or expressing love. They had a distorted view of the world around them and of everyone in it, including them.
Without his aunt there, Louis would’ve met the same fate as those children.
Now, as an adult, he’d be the same spitting image of his own narcissistic parents–cruel, selfish, and aloof.
Louis was terrified of making that first phone call, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized he had nothing to lose. He’d already lost everything due to his anxiety, and he’d felt no joy in his heart or pride in his bones for as long as he could remember.
That was it, then. He’d go through with it, but not until tomorrow morning.
Chapter Three
Counting Scars: Six Shoulders to Lean On Page 2