I shrug. “I don’t know.”
“Why did you leave?”
“I don’t know.” I stare across the restaurant as I go over the last few months. “We’re friends, and she’s just . . . so beautiful and sweet and everything I’m not, and then we kissed, and . . .” I shrug.
She smiles softly as she watches me.
“Anyway.” I straighten in my chair. “It’s over now.”
Her eyes hold mine. “Is it?”
“I want it to be over.”
“Some things you cannot choose. They choose you.”
I sip my coffee. I have nothing more to say.
“Do you remember the time I pulled you out of school and you stayed home with Dad and me for the year and went to the speech therapist Miss Theresa on Tuesdays?”
“Vaguely.”
“Do you remember what you used to talk about with her?”
“Not really.”
“She used to talk about your problems and fears with you.”
I frown. “Miss Theresa was a shrink?”
She pulls out a book from her bag. “Would you like to read it?”
I take it from her and look it over. It’s a notebook, and typed-out letters are all glued inside. I check the date on the front page. I would have been ten when this was written.
It is my belief that Christopher is experiencing traits of perfectionism.
The next part is scribbled down in my mother’s writing, as if she has researched the word perfectionism.
Perfectionism in psychology is a broad personality style characterized by a person’s concern with striving for flawlessness and perfection and is accompanied by critical self-evaluations and concerns regarding others’ evaluations.
Traits that Christopher readily displays:
All-or-nothing attitude.
Being highly critical of himself and others.
Feeling pushed by fear.
Having unrealistic standards.
Focusing only on results.
Feeling depressed or terrified by unmet goals.
Fear of failure.
Procrastination.
Defensiveness.
Although he does not display the usual low self-esteem, he does rely heavily on his brothers, which may indicate a codependent relationship. Christopher feels that to be accepted he needs to excel in all areas of his life.
Failure isn’t an option.
What?
I frown and read on. The next paragraph is from the therapist.
Moving forward, I would suggest that Christopher continue his therapy, as if he is left untreated, I would expect that these traits may worsen when he approaches adulthood and enters into personal relationships.
I close the book and pass it back to her, annoyed. “I was ten.”
Mom’s knowing eyes hold mine.
“All ten-year-olds are weird.” I shuffle around in my chair, feeling uncomfortable. “I’m not a perfectionist.”
She stays silent.
“I don’t care what that stupid book says. I’m not a fucking perfectionist.”
She sips her coffee.
“What made you take me to a damn shrink when I was ten, anyway?” I snap.