ANOSOGNOSIA:
A person with a disorder who has refused treatment either because they have no idea of their sickness or they do not think they’re sick.
There I was, sitting on the bathroom floor with the doors locked, crying and sobbing softly.
There he was knocking on the bathroom door-
“Maya! Maya!”
I couldn’t open the door, I felt so stupid, I let myself breakdown in front of him. He says again but this time more softly-
“Maya... please open the door. Let’s talk about this”
I could hear the concern in his voice.
I cleaned my tears, wiped my face, adjusted the oversized yellow T-shirt I had on and gently opened the bathroom door. As I stepped out, I saw him sitting on my bed, hands in between his legs, his face was down. I immediately cleared my throat to get his attention, his eyes immediately met mine and out of shame I looked away. I went to lay on the bed waiting for him to bring up what happened few minutes earlier- but he didn’t. Instead he lay next to me, cuddled me and from there I slept off.
Few hours later....
I had woken up from my nap, I felt much better. I thought I had escaped the questions he would ask concerning earlier. Lol, I was unlucky, he was already awake, idling away on his phone as usual- I thought. As I sat up he looked towards my direction, sensing what he was about to say I decided to talk first -
“Look, if it’s about what happened earlier I’m not ready to talk about it, I’m not even willing to.... it was just a phase and I’m over it now.”
“I knew you’d say this” - he said
I ignored him still.
“Maya, are you just going to pretend you didn’t break down while I kissed you? Are you really going to ignore this? Are we not going to talk about this?”
I didn’t utter a word.
In my mind...he knew. He knew about my past, he knew about everything i went through. Why would he want me to go through the pain of telling him all over again? Did he not know that healing actually takes time? Did he think moving on was so easy?.
”I know I’ve been holding back from saying this...you need to see a therapist” - he said
I don’t know why I found the statement so offensive or why I got so angry with it.
”I don’t need a therapist and I most definitely don’t need your help....I just needed someone to talk to” - I said with so much anger.
My eyes were filled with tears but I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t breakdown in front of anyone-much less him - for the second time!
Why did I want to cry? I asked myself. Was I afraid I opened up to him much more than I wanted to? Was I afraid of the fact that I finally let someone in? Was I afraid that deep down inside I felt I might have a disorder- PTSD or something of that sort? So many things were going through my mind but if there was one thing I was sure of, I wasn’t going to admit I needed to see a therapist. Stubborn maya as usual I know.
”Why don’t you want help maya?”
”Because I don’t need it!” - I flared up.
I stood up, about to “not so calmly” tell him every reason I could come up with as to why I wouldn’t seek professional help.
He stood up, walked up to me, almost as if he had me against the wall. Just as he towered over me, I remembered how tall he was and how “not-so tall” I was - A 6’1 feet guy and a 5’6 feet girl. With the most guiltless eyes -
”Babe, I know you’re stubborn and I’m sorry for trying to make you to do something you’re not comfortable with. Just three questions though... what would you do if you were in my shoes? What would you do if I was constantly unhappy? If you were in love with someone would you like to see them suffer?... For Christ’s sake you have self-inflicted razor marks all over your arms and thighs”
”Babe? Love? Where was all this coming from? I mean we’ve been seeing each other for a few months but we weren’t dating. And as for love...did he actually love me? He never told me this...why now?. The razor marks weren’t that serious...I mean they helped relieve pain, didn’t they?” - I thought.
I finally snapped out of it and I said the only thing I could come up with -
”I’m not suffering. I don’t need your help”
He looked like he’d had enough and I was expecting him to be harsh but he replied in a calm tone -
”I respect your decision, I won’t push further either. But the last thing I’d do is to be by your side, continue whatever “this” is while i watch you get eaten up. I can’t bear to see you like this everytime...I’m sorry.”
I’ve never seen him so sad. The pain in his eyes was something I didn’t understand, I should be the one in pain and not him but then again I’ve never had a guy like/love me genuinely so maybe that’s why I didn’t understand. With that, he opened the door and left...Brian left...he left me...he didn’t look back once and I stood there...I watched him leave. I gently closed the door and sat back on my bed.
What was this pain I was feeling? Why was I so heartbroken? Did he actually mean what he said? Did I really push someone I cared about away? My face...my cheeks,they were wet... the tears I had been holding in finally came rolling down. But this time I didn’t wipe them away.
A month later...
I was at a supermarket when someone gently tapped my shoulder, I turned around to see who it was. He was stood there, as handsome as he was the last time - Brian.
His smile lasted for just a split second before it turned into a frown. He noticed...he noticed the sadness in my eyes. He immediately looked at my arms and thighs, I thought the long-sleeved crop top and high-waisted Jean trousers I wore would stop him. I was wrong. He took my arm and raised my sleeves up. There it was - the razor marks. They looked new, they looked like I did them yesterday, they looked like they were far from healing, they looked like I renewed them everyday.
I was at the verge of crying...I was getting worse without realizing.
And then I looked at him-
”Maybe I do need therapy.”