log: [Jennie and Samson] (backdated to October 17th)

[x-roulette.livejournal.com]

backdated because of...yeah, I got nothing.

Jennie has a session with Samson.



The office seemed like pretty standard fare; comfy chair, potted fern, strategically placed box of tissues. Jennie sat hunched over in the chair, twisting and untwisting the wrapper of a jolly rancher. She still wore baggy clothes, but her face was much less sharp, gaining weight at last. Slowly, she looked back up at Dr. Samson, who was just sitting down across from her.

The large man settled himself in the chair, looking at the brunette thoughtfully. She had been coming faithfully to sessions and had been an ideal patient - the kind dedicated to making changes and getting better. However, that kind of patient also tended to get frustrated when results to treatment weren't immediate, which they rarely were. "Good afternoon Jennie. How has this past week been?"

"Fine," she said, concentrating on the jolly rancher in her hand. "I refused to do my powers class, so Ms. Maximoff lectured me and then took me to lunch. I'll start going, but that's only because she's going to help me."

Leonard nodded understandingly. "Powers class sounds like it's a difficult hurdle for you, but I'm glad to hear that you've found a way to get yourself to continue your lessons. What made you want to avoid the class?"

"My powers?" Jennie said, still fixated on the candy in her lap. "I thought that they always did more harm than good, so I figured if I just quit using them, I wouldn't get another snap....like the one I had," she added softly. She continued in her normal voice, "But Wanda-- Ms. Maximoff says not using them makes is worse anyway. So I'm stuck."

"That's interesting to hear you say Jennie - that you wanted to fix the problem by avoiding it. Does that remind you of anything else in your life?" Samson asked, careful to keep his voice gentle.

Jennie opened her mouth to retort before snapping it shut. "I...well. A lot. Sometimes it's just better not to think about things. I mean, I don't like it when people complain. Either fix it or shut up, you know? And sometimes you just can't fix things, so," she trailed off with a shrug.

Samson nodded, keeping a close eye on Jennie's nonverbals. "So what?"

The girl shifted uncomfortably. She hated when he made her explain herself, because then she sounded so lame. "So you leave them be. You take the best you can and run. Life's not going to give you what you want, anyway."

"But do you? Leave them be, that is?" Samson paused for a moment. "And if you do, what happens?"

She saw where this was headed. "It all goes to shit," Jennie said dryly. "It blows up or it backfires or it snaps back," she put her head in her hands and sighed. "My Mom or Julia I... I had to bury it. You can't walk around with your grief like that. People don't want to see you depressed. So you bury it."

"Bury it?" he queried. "Tell me more about that - what you do and what happens as a result." Samson leaned back slightly, steepling his hands together as he waited for the younger girl to explain.

"Just...not talk about it? You know? You can't make it go away, but you don't have to walk around with it on your sleeve." She finally opened the jolly rancher and popped it in her mouth. "Like, it's easier to be fine and not have to explain yourself to everyone you come across. To not think too hard about it. And it stops hurting so much, after a time."

"It's much easier not to talk about what's bothering us," Samson agreed, though his voice made it clear that he was really pushing Jennie to examine that statement. "If we bottle everything up and don't let anyone in, we can numb the pain."

"I just don't see how it would help. Talking about it. People look at you funny afterwards. They think differently of you." Jennie was twisting the wrapper now. "Telling someone doesn't make it go away. You're just burdening someone with your own pain."

"So if a friend was having a difficult time with something and they came to talk with you about it, is that how you would feel? Burdened?" Samson asked.

He was good. Jennie had to admit that. "No. Not all." She sighed. "I just rather people would think I was stable. Some days I feel like I'm barely keeping myself together. I don't want people to see me fall apart."

Samson smiled kindly at her, knowing how difficult it was for her to talk about this. "What would happen if they did?"

"You know what? It's stupid, isn't it? Nothing would happen. Nothing would break or fall apart or be destroyed. Nobody depends on me here. It doesn't matter. I shouldn't think like that." Jennie shoved the wrapper in her pocket and exhaled quickly.

"It's not stupid," he said. "It is completely normal to feel that way. But I think you said something interesting there. 'Nobody depends on me here.' When has someone depended on you?"

"Lost of times. Marius did when we were in Europe, and Jules did when I was living with her. She was such an airhead, I had to make sure all our bills got paid and the apartment was clean and all that, and she--" Jennie quickly dropped that train of thought. "And...and my Mom. She wasn't very good at taking care of things. I always had to clean up after her. Make sure she ate and stuff." Jennie stared off, somewhere past Samson.

"She'd always say, I was such a good little girl. Always looking after her Ma."

Samson was quiet, his face composed in an attentive expression as he waited for Jennie to keep talking. She was obviously monitoring what she allowed herself to say and he wanted to see what she would spontaneously do with the silence.

Jennie continued with her train of thought. "She, ah... she'd come home, drunk some nights. Or high. Couldn't find her bedroom. I'd put her to bed. Sometimes I'd have to clean if she threw up, because I couldn't stand the smell. She was like, I dunno. Like I had a teenage daughter, but I was just a little kid. And then when I got older and started staying out late, I think she got mad. Cause I wasn't there to clean up after her."

"That's a lot of responsibility for a little girl. Having to make sure everything was in order and taking care of the person who should have been taking care of you," Samson said.

"Yeah, well. Didn't have much of a choice. No Dad. I mean, when she was with Dan, that's the guy I told you about? Things ran smoothly. He picked up after her and made sure I was taken care of. But she drove him away, like with the rest of 'em. And then she expected me to pick up where we left off and..." Jennie rubbed the back of her neck. "That's when things got bad."

"What happened then?" Samson queried gently. They had skirted this topic many times before in therapy, but Jennie always seemed to shy away when questioned about her childhood and it wasn't his style to force her to talk about something she wasn't ready to yet.

"Oh, we fought. All the time. She would just pick at me, my grades, my friends, my appearance." Jennie frowned, remembering. "I wouldn't keep the house clean. Nothing was good enough for her. So I'd stay away, and that would just make her madder. I couldn't understand that, y'know? She wasn't happy when I was there, but she wasn't happy when I was. And then she chucked me out."

"So you were getting mixed messages about what she wanted from you and it sounds like you didn't really know how to respond," he reflected.

"She wanted me, but she didn't want me. She had me, but I ruined her life." Jennie said distantly.

"And that left you wondering," he said softly, allowing Jennie to continue drifting through her thoughts and memories. "About which were her true feelings."

"I mean, I know she loved me. She told me as much when we started speaking again last fall. But I wonder why she even bothered to have me in the first place. My father'd left her, he didn't even know she was pregnant. Why did she do it? Why keep me? I'll never understand that."

"She must have had a reason though," he said. "Even if you may never know what it is."

"Yeah, never will." A brief flash of sadness passed over Jennie's face. "And I don't know why she kept me from my family. From my grandparents, from my Dad." She smiled, still looking at the floor. "I can't believe how he is. He really has no obligation towards me, I'm almost 18. And yet he insists on paying for my tuition here now. And taking care of me. It's...surreal."

"I wish I could help you figure out why she did that, but I'm afraid that part of the past may never get revealed," he said as gently as possible. "But what we can do...what you can do...is focus on getting to know them now and making up for that time you lost with them."

"I know," Jennie said. "I was really worried that I'd...that after lying to my Dad that he'd think I was just like my Mom. Wouldn't want anything to do with me. The professor explained everything though. Which is good, because I don't think i could've."

"You've been through a lot," Samson said and quickly held up his hand. "And I know that's the understatement of the year. But I'm glad you've recognized some of the supports you have and are taking advantage of them."

"It was a time for a change," Jennie said quietly. Now focusing on the trashcan next to her chair. "I couldn't do it by myself anymore. 'M not strong enough."

"Sometimes it requires more strength to ask for assistance than to try and proceed without it," he replied.

"Yeah, well, whatever it is." Jennie finally looked at Samson. "It helps, y'know? A little bit."

"That is good to hear Jennie. Every little bit is important. We start with the pieces and keep putting them together until you feel less overwhelmed and more in control." He smiled at her. "You sound more hopeful now than you did when we first started working together and that is a lot more progress than you might think."

"Yeah, well, a lot's happened since we started. Things aren't as bad as they were." She shrugged shyly and offered Samson a little smile.

Samson's smile gained more warmth. Seeing Jennie smile and noting the progress they had made together reminded him why he had taken this job and kept it for so long. "Hopefully they will continue to get better. And should issues arise, you are now more aware of how to reach out for help and the strengths you yourself possess."

Jennie leaned back in the chair. "After where I've been? Only place I can go now is up."