"That's part of it. Actually, I had a lot of reasons."
He sighs again, rubbing her back.
"One of the main ones being-- they just weren't there. Y'know? They didn't see what I saw. They didn't feel what I felt. They just wouldn't understand. Couldn't understand. How could they even begin to understand? And there's no way I could even begin to explain. Y'know what I mean? So what good would it do me to talk to someone who has absolutely no idea what it's like to be in a situation like-- like--"
His breath hitches.
"People told me I should talk to a doctor, a therapist, psychiatrist, whatever. People who know what they know from goddamn textbooks. I don't wanna hear, 'I'm sorry you went through that.' 'It's gonna get better.' 'That's really awful, I can't imagine how it must have been for you.' God, what bullshit that is. Okay, fine, some people might actually-- y'know, care, but-- they're few and far between, and it's hard to find someone you trust enough. And then when you do, it comes back to not wanting to burden them.
"It's why I never talked to my family. Janet, the kids. I mean, Jeezus, I couldn't tell my kids, they're just kids. Yeah, Daddy's having a rough goddamn day, go play somewhere else. I just-- I didn't know what else to do. So I kept it bottled up inside. And then crawled into a bottle. For years. I drank away my wife and children, almost drank away my job. When I started losing everything I almost drank away my life."
He pauses and swallows, hesitant in revisiting one of his darkest, lowest moments.
"All 'cause I never talked to anybody. I mean, I still feel the same way. You know me, I don't open up easily. You'd need to stick a goddamn crowbar in my head to pry it open, but-- sometimes, when you do find that person to talk to-- it actually-- kind of does get better. A little. On some days, at least."
no subject
"That's part of it. Actually, I had a lot of reasons."
He sighs again, rubbing her back.
"One of the main ones being-- they just weren't there. Y'know? They didn't see what I saw. They didn't feel what I felt. They just wouldn't understand. Couldn't understand. How could they even begin to understand? And there's no way I could even begin to explain. Y'know what I mean? So what good would it do me to talk to someone who has absolutely no idea what it's like to be in a situation like-- like--"
His breath hitches.
"People told me I should talk to a doctor, a therapist, psychiatrist, whatever. People who know what they know from goddamn textbooks. I don't wanna hear, 'I'm sorry you went through that.' 'It's gonna get better.' 'That's really awful, I can't imagine how it must have been for you.' God, what bullshit that is. Okay, fine, some people might actually-- y'know, care, but-- they're few and far between, and it's hard to find someone you trust enough. And then when you do, it comes back to not wanting to burden them.
"It's why I never talked to my family. Janet, the kids. I mean, Jeezus, I couldn't tell my kids, they're just kids. Yeah, Daddy's having a rough goddamn day, go play somewhere else. I just-- I didn't know what else to do. So I kept it bottled up inside. And then crawled into a bottle. For years. I drank away my wife and children, almost drank away my job. When I started losing everything I almost drank away my life."
He pauses and swallows, hesitant in revisiting one of his darkest, lowest moments.
"All 'cause I never talked to anybody. I mean, I still feel the same way. You know me, I don't open up easily. You'd need to stick a goddamn crowbar in my head to pry it open, but-- sometimes, when you do find that person to talk to-- it actually-- kind of does get better. A little. On some days, at least."