Chương 1094: Day One Thousand And Ninety-Two

Dear Diary, Y'know, you'd think with me complaining that the nearest therapist is a universe away on the regular I might remember how often I've also said that the nearest thing here and now has to therapists is Clergy and Soul specialists like Doc Glass. Seriously, it's like any time I manage to avoid self-sabotaging, my ADHD jumps up and says, 'hey, I got you fam', and helpfully sabotages me like I'd forgotten to sabotage myself, rather than doing everything in my power to stop doing that.

I think that might be one of the hardest things for folks who aren't ADHD to understand. Folks whose brains just do the things they're supposed to do, like reminding them when stuff is supposed to happen. Or really, when they're supposed to do things. Okay, that's not really it. Or not really the core of the thing, or explain all the annoyances of the thing. Neurotypical folks, at least all the ones I knew, pretty much were their brains.

They didn't have this whole thing where they had to treat their brain, the meat their self is running on, like some kind of hostile entity. Huh. Now I wonder if that's another of those source of myths back in the day. Like I'd definitely heard the ones about folks on the spectrum being the source of myths about Changelings and Fae, what with them being rules oriented, taking things literally, not being able to lie, and above all the whole 'baby stops developing the way babies are expected to develop'.

Which folks of course blamed on the fairies stealing the baby away and replacing her with a Changeling, not on the fact that the baby daddy had a collection of uniquely shaped dried fruit and knew the name and details of every plant that grew within a hundred miles of them.

But I can totally see where some poor ADHD bitch would get told to do some shit, and for whatever reason neither the dopamine nor the cortisol would flow, so she's just sitting there like, 'I want to, but my hand won't move, it's like someone else is controlling it' and some religious type decides she's possessed. Which, y'know, if you put her life in danger, that will get that fuckin' cortisol flowing, which will override the brain's basic response of 'hot stove, do not touch'.

Especially if the other option is being touched with a branding iron wielded by someone else who can't feel the pain in your hand. Yeah, here and now I'm thinking possession is just something like what the ladies and I can do to each other, only hostile. Non-consensual, in the worst kind of way, which is exactly why I came down so hard on Isnomi about it.

Also, I kinda want to ask Tallulah about whether Changelings are a thing or not, but I'm worried that might be offensive, and I'm curious, not in dire need of knowing to prevent some kind of tragedy. Fuck, if I needed to know to prevent some kind of tragedy, I might not have time to ask her, and I hate the way my brain will shove things like that into my thought process. Oh, yeah, intrusive thoughts? Definitely one of those things that prompted 'demon possession' shit back in the day.

At any rate, at the end of the day, I hopped all the kids back to the Homestead, where they all made like they were gonna dash off to get their bedtime gear.

"Hold it, kids!" They all came to a screeching halt. Kinda nice that my kids listen to me. Not sure how I got lucky with that; maybe it's the lack of feeds engineered to shorten attention spans or some shit like that. Isnomi piped up, "Mama?"

"We've got two guests here who will be going over to Grandma and Grandpa's place with me tomorrow, but I don't know if they want to sleep over, so we'll be having dinner here tonight. Baths too, before we head over." That got mixed reactions, but nobody rebelled. We'd done it this way before, and I wasn't telling them their weekly sleepover was cancelled, just that we'd be eating here instead of picnicking there. That put a thought in my head. Dad?

Weirdest thing, while I could understand him just fine, I got the impression his voice was muffled somehow. Yes, Daughter? Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. We've got some guests, Doctors from one of the Phileo Universities, who are coming along tomorrow for the therapy sesh. I don't think they're down for the sleepover though, so we're having dinner here. Did you want to come?

They're welcome to sleep over if they'd like, but I understand our accommodations are still inferior to yours at the Homestead. The thought that his voice was kinda muffled bugged me, and I let the intrusive thoughts win. Why... Is your voice muffled? My mouth is full? A second later, as I watched the kids attacking the big bowls of fried rice Marie had made like starving piranha, my face warmed. Dad! What? Your mother is an excellent cook. Now I was blushing from embarrassment over a mistaken assumption. Oh.

Sorry. Could you bring us each a bowl of that rice when you bring the children over? I thought you said Mom cooked tonight? I said no such thing. Okay, now back to blushing at Dad's implications. Just that she is a provider of tasty treats. Her pie and cake are particularly delectable. DAD! My outburst got me nothing but a Muttley snicker as bad as anything Isnomi had ever done. So I sighed and headed to the kitchen to find some bowls we could leave at Dad's without missing them when we inevitably forgot them.

We'll bring you dinner. Because you're still the best. I know. Best troll. I got nothing back from that other than another snicker. After dinner, as we all headed up to the Bath, I walked next to the Docs.

"Hey, our normal thing Sunday nights is to take the kids for a sleepover before they come home and I do my therapy thing with Dad and a couple of my ladies. You're invited if you want to come along for that, but," I shrugged.

"We've fixed up his cave to make it a little less awful, but it's still, y'know, the cave he's imprisoned in." The two of them looked at each other while we walked up the Bore, and about halfway up Doc Z chuckled and said, "I think we've become far too accustomed to the luxury of your homes' 'guess rooms'." I did not expect Doc Glass to cut in at that point and say, "while I agree with Joe about tonight, I just had a thought about tomorrow."

He glanced down at where I'd hefted Aisling up into the crook of my arm; she'd mostly fallen asleep after getting her belly full.

"Okay?"

"In many cases, those close to us, even when they try to help us, can wind up perpetuating unhealthy cycles. Sometimes entirely out of love, but often as not because of shared or resonating traumas." It didn't take a genius to figure out what he was getting at.

"So, what, you think maybe we ought to be doing some kinda group family therapy?" He nodded, but with another significant glance at Aisling said, "perhaps not every week, but if your children see that their mothers are seeking healthy ways to Heal or deal with the traumas of their Souls and Minds, they can't help but be more comfortable with engaging in similar Healing should they be traumatized themselves." I stopped, suddenly ashamed of myself. Of my selfishness.

My voice a hoarse whisper, I said, "yeah, some of them have plenty of trauma already." The Docs had stopped with me, and Doc G laid one hand on my free arm.

"You hadn't thought of bringing them for that reason, had you?" I shook my head, unable to speak.

"It's not uncommon for trauma to make us fail to notice simple things. Nor is it an unforgivable failing; sometimes even entirely healthy people might not realize that those close to them need the type of Healing I specialize in."

"Thanks Doc," I whispered.

"May..." I held up my arm, and he smiled and nodded. We got to the Bath a little late, what with me quietly blubbering as the two of them held me. When I got to the Bath, the only thing Saffron said as I slipped in next to her was, "I didn't think of it either, love." So today, after our sleepover, we didn't take the kids home. Instead we went and got the Docs. While Doc Z mostly just helped quietly keep our more boisterous kids focused, listening, and participating, we all took turns talking about our traumas.

I didn't even think about who knew what when I talked about my life back in the day, from mom working herself to death to getting shot in the head and waking up here. Saffron talked about her earliest memory being her whole family dying around her, as she and Grandma tried desperately to nurse them back to health. Siobhan and Hailee both talked about the Spartan attack.

I think everybody but me got blown away by Isnomi talking about how she remembered what happened to her on that Altar on my first Autumn Equinox here. Turn after turn after turn. We didn't force anybody. Some of our kids didn't say anything. Some of them just whispered things, like most of Marie's foundlings talking about their families dying of Apollo's Plague. A couple of the kits mentioned Lyssa's attack. Mom and Dad talked about losing their boys, Narfi and Vali. Time flows oddly in Dad's cave.

All those stories, all those group hugs, and all those tears, they took hours. They took moments. They took days. They went on forever, each of us slowly, carefully opening up as much as we could, as much as we dared, and finding our family there to hold us together, hold us up... Just hold us. Because sometimes that's all we can do. But sometimes that's enough.