- Rorschach, Watchmen
Joe hated therapy.
"I apologize for not meeting with the two of you sooner, but, with the pandemic going on, it's hard to set these things up. Plus, I can't exactly conduct therapy over the phone with two people at once."
Obviously, therapy is very good for those who need it, and a very helpful tool to get to a better place mentally. Joe was a person who needed it and needed to be in that better place. But he had some serious problems with going.
First of all, therapy was emotionally exhausting. A good appointment, one where you really open up and not simply tell the therapist about what's going on in your life, will leave you feeling drained. It's hard to focus on the long term when the short term has one feeling like a dumpster fire. Second, it's bad enough having to visit a therapist on your own. Dragging someone else along for the ride makes it tough on two people.
In spite of outward appearances, things were not hunky-dory with Joe and Lucy. How could they be? He lost his mind last year and she bore the brunt of the punishment. He never attacked her, never turned on her, but she still had to deal with watching him deteriorate and turn into a monster.
He felt guilty about a lot of things but dragging her into his issues was a big part of it. Yet here he was again, dragging her along for something like this because they had to work things out. Relationships are work, but sometimes he wondered if everyone had limits. His ex-wife had her limits. Lucy reached hers with two people before him.
He wondered why she stuck around at all, especially now.
"That's okay, doctor. It's been a rough year for everyone."
Joe looked at Lucy as she said this, trying to gauge some hint of how she was feeling. In addition to trying to repair the relationship he broke, she was also dealing with a lot of other things in her personal life that didn't need recapping.
"Joe, you're quiet."
"You say that as if that's unusual."
"Right. Well, the last time you were here, according to my notes, you were getting into the moment Joe finally decided to start taking his medication again, and get help."
JC tried very hard not to roll his eyes and instead he sighed. He felt like, helpful or not, this was just picking at scabs that were slowly healing. He was kind of done with therapy in general. He was tired of coming. He was tired of feeling bad after and he was growing impatient. Every bit of logic said this was a good thing, but that didn't the negative side of him from protesting anyway.
"Something the matter, Joe?"
Lucy turned her head to him too, putting a hand on his knee, as if she also wanted an answer to that question. He had been in his own head for a while, but dismissed the inquiry.
"I'm fine."
The therapist seemed to accept this, but Lucy didn't. She stared at him for a moment longer, and he patted her hand to assure her that, yes, he really was fine. He wasn't, he didn't want to be here at all, but he was willing to suck it up for her. There wasn't a lot in this world that he wouldn't do for her.
"Okay, well, you told me last time you got back on your meds after losing your job."
"Something like that, yeah."
He also disappeared for a month, winding up in an inpatient clinic until he was stable enough to be released. But the doctor knew this. This was all extraneous recap, as if catching a viewer up on what happened last season in some TV show. It was for the doctor to collect their thoughts, not actually provide any context on recent events.
"Lucy, how did you feel about all of this? His losing his job, disappearing, not contacting you for weeks?"
"I.. Um.. I felt abandoned. I felt like I wasn't important enough to be with."
She was clearly uncomfortable with the question. Whether it was just being this open with a relative stranger or doing so in front of him, he wasn't sure. She had her own therapist, so he assumed it was the later. Or maybe her mind was elsewhere. They had a lot of problems that weren't entirely related to what happened last year.
He stopped an impatient sigh and looked at her.
"That's not why I didn't say anything."
"Then why, Joe? Why didn't you contact her?"
"Because I was out of my mind. And after what happened, I didn't want to...hurt her...you."
Talking to two people at once was difficult.
"You've seen me at my worst Joe.. And you helped me through it. I've seen you at yours and I'm still around. I'm not going anywhere.. But you fight me when I try to help you. I get that you don't wanna hurt me but I'm not scared of you, even at your worst because I know you wouldn't.. even if you don't."
This time a sigh escaped. He couldn't help it. He was very annoyed with the whole thing, drudging up arguments they've already had. As if doing so with someone else there to mediate was going to help any.
"You don't seem like you want to hear that, Joe."
"That's not it."
He shifted restlessly in his chair. Lucy again placed her hand on him, a look of concern. They had been in here for half an hour already, going over all the details that it was time to talk about how they feel. And how he felt lately was angry. Angry at himself. Angry at the world. And, at least in part, angry at her. It was one big circle.
"What is it, babe?"
"Look, it's really easy for you to say I wouldn't hurt you now. I'm medicated. I'm doped up. But I saw the way your eyes looked when I was at my worst. I saw how you looked at me. I still catch glimpses of it. Like you don't fully trust me anymore."
"Joe.."
"Let him finish, please. Joe, why would you think that she doesn't trust you?"
"Because she's been hurt so many times before. And I swore I wouldn't. Then I did. You can say I wouldn't now, but I dragged you through hell with me. So every time you ask me if I've taken my medication. Every time you ask me if I'm pushing myself a little too hard. It's like there's a hidden message saying, 'Because I don't ever want to be around who you were again.'"
Maybe he was paranoid. Maybe he was overreacting. But he saw the accusatory look in her eyes whenever those days were brought up. Sure, she didn't hesitate when he asked her to marry him, but it's not like it was a magical cure. She still wasn't letting him in, not completely. Not like she used to.
At least, that's what his mind told him during his lowest moments.
He looked to her, expecting anger, but all he saw was sadness. He did it again.
"Did I enjoy what happened and 'who you were'? No. Shit fucking sucked, Joe. And yeah, I guess there is a part of me that worries that you'll make that same choice you did but NOT because I'm scared of you. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times... I don't want you to end up doing something that you can't live with.. I've seen worse than the things you've done, you know that. If I'm scared for anything Joe, I'm scared for you. I'm not always sure if you feel your life is important enough to keep yourself in check."
The therapist leaned forward and bit on her pen, intrigued by the conversation. I'm glad we're entertaining you, JC thought bitterly.
"It sounds like you were taking a shot at yourself there. Like you think Joe doesn't see you as important."
Lucy sighed and looked away from both the therapist and Joe.
"Wouldn't be the first time that I wasn't important enough."
"That's ridiculous and you know it."
"We don't want to use that kind of language here, Joe."
"Well it is! I have and would do anything for you, Luce. You're the most important person in my life other than my daughter."
"You're right. But look at this from my point of view for once, okay? You disappeared. You blocked me out. Not just for a day, Joe.. How's that supposed to make me feel?"
He was angry now. He was tired of being here and he was tired of being made to look like the bad guy. Had he made some mistakes? Sure. He would have to live with that. But he was trying, and none of this was exactly making him think she had any faith in him to change. So with his anger and a hair trigger temper, it wasn't a surprise what he said next.
"Probably about as awful as I did when you cost me my career in Carnage."
All the blood drained away from Lucy's face and she got quiet. Part of him was glad. The rest felt guilty. The therapist was taken aback as well.
"Wait, she is the one that did it?"
Lucy had. She struck him down in order to, as she put it, save him from himself. In doing so, he could never wrestle in Carnage again.
The therapist looked at Lucy, who turned her head away.
Joe hated therapy.
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After what was a disastrous therapy session, and having a long talk with Lucy after, JC called up his own therapist for advice on what to do. That therapist remained phone-only, and said that he should keep a journal to express his thoughts until they can have a proper appointment. One therapist had no problem seeing multiple people, the other still kept them far away. Such was the case during a pandemic.
Joe initially thought the idea of a journal was silly, but he also thought his couples therapist was unprepared and that's why things spiraled out of control. Outside of the fact that he caused issues and Lucy isn't nearly emotionally equipped to handle things like that right off.
He decided as he packed for Wrestlestock, he'd write down his thoughts. Perhaps it'd help. Perhaps not.
Either way, now was the perfect time to do so, as Lucy was in the shower. She didn't even take her engagement ring with her, as she didn't dare losing or damaging it in any way. He loved her a little more for how much she took care of it.
I'm not sure what I'm going to accomplish by writing in this. I guess it should be a confession of sorts. You're the only one that's going to read it anyway.
The truth is, I don't know who I am anymore. I've spent so much time being destructive, hurting people, causing pain, that I don't know who I am without it. I'm addicted to it. I'm addicted to letting my illness run unchecked, listening to the voice in my head and doing whatever.
I'm addicted to being miserable, I guess.
I should back up.
I've got Wrestlestock this month. I'm actually packing for that right now as I write this. It's a title match, sure. A Chaos title match against Tempest and Sloane Taylor. If I were cutting a promo right now, I'd probably go on and on about how I'm definitely walking out of there with the title. How in spite of my loss at Melee and losing again to Alan Wallace, I'm just as good as I ever was and I'll prove it in the ring.
The first thing to go, of course, was his ring gear. He had no problem wrestling in street clothes, especially in the extreme fight he was preparing for, but he felt more comfortable in his gear. In some ways, he felt more comfortable in that gear than anything else.
It was the same as it always was. Blue MMA-style shorts with black trim. Boots. Knee pads. Wrist tape. Extremely basic. Nothing flashy. It served him well thus far.
He put them inside his second bag. His normal travel bag was already packed, full of enough clothes for a week-long excursion. With Lucy in the Open, she could (and likely would) make it all the way to the finals.
The writing continued.
The truth is, I'm not so sure.
The very truth, the deep down truth, is that my confidence in my promos, my trolling on Twitter, it's all a front.
As I said, I don't know who I am anymore. I don't know if I'm as good as I was, if I was ever good. Everything that I've accomplished, I let my inner demons, my dark passenger, if you will, take control. It drove me, it pushed me past my limits. And without that obsession, I don't know if I have what it takes to be a success. Even four years ago, I'd have eaten someone like Alan Wallace for breakfast.
I mean, he's good. I knew that going in. But so was Jesse Williams. So was Redemption. So was Jet Somers. So were hundreds of other people I stomped into the mat.
A loss like that, in my highest profile singles match, makes me look like a choke artist.
Next up was his cell phone charger. He had a bad habit of forgetting it, which is why he had at least a dozen in various locations in the apartment he and Lucy shared. Someone was likely to make a small fortune by how much money he was putting into the cell phone charging industry just by how scatterbrained he tended to be.
The truth was, he blamed his medication for that. At the risk of stuffing down his illness, violent needs and voices, it also tended to dull his thinking. A brain fog.
He thought for a moment and packed two chargers.
Just in case.
I hear everyone talk. He's a bonafide Hall of Famer. He's a legend. He's a legacy. But the pressure of that almost feels like it's too much to bear. Like it's gonna crush me. How can I possibly live up to the idea of JC, without really becoming 'The Answer'?
The Answer is a destructive force. He's the worst parts of me bringing out the best in me. I want to win and I've felt for too long a time that giving into that side of me makes me win. Makes me better. If I have no regard for my opponent's health, even my own, it gives me the edge.
I thought that last year. That's why I'm in the situation I'm in.
I blamed Lucy, and yeah, a part of me is still angry with her for her part in it, but it was ultimately my fault. I went off my meds. I let my ego get the better of me. I put my career on the line. I put myself in the position to be exiled. Lucy just did what she thought was best for me.
UGWC wasn't exactly my first choice to continue my career. It's a good place, sure, but Carnage was home. And now I'm a spectator at best. It's up to me to make the best of it and prove that I belong here, because whether I like it or not, UGWC is home now.
JC reached inside of his desk and pulled out a pill scheduler, which had all of his medication in it. He opened up each little box and began the meticulous task of putting the right pill in the right box for the right day. He was own multiple medications. He hadn't even paid attention to what they were called anymore.
He'd be on them for the rest of his life, assuming they worked. So far they had.
Taking them was a necessary part of the day now, whether he wanted to or not. And that depended on the day.
After placing each capsule of drugs into its proper position, he took a moment to stare at his handiwork. It would do. He didn't like it, but it would do.
And since it's home, I do have to stake my claim. What does it say that I can beat nobodies but fail when it really counts? What does it say about me? That I'm all talk? That I'm washed up? I can't let that happen.
But there's a part of me that's worried I really am washed up. I can't remember the last big win I had.
The Melee was mine and I got overconfident. I should have beat Wallace but I didn't.
What are they going to think if I can't put away Tempest and Sloane Taylor?
Nevermind going for the World title, if I can't even win the Chaos title I shouldn't even be here. There is, of course, a way to be sure, but...
He looked down at the medicine. He found himself wanting to toss the entire contents into the garbage and lie again. Lie to her like he did before. 'I took the pills, Luce. They're just underneath everything.'
By the time Wrestlestock rolled around, the half-life of the drugs would have diminished and he might feel a little like himself again.
Not only would the brain fog be gone, but he'd have the sudden clarity that only his psychosis could bring. Then Tempest would see what fear really was. Then Sloane would know exactly what was so legendary about JC.
I could just throw the medicine away.
It would be easy. No one would ever know. Maybe I'd even start taking it again once I let myself loosen up a little. Maybe. Or maybe I'd stop taking them. She already doesn't trust me. She says she does but I can see otherwise.
I could throw it all away and cement my legacy.
But then I'd be alone. Everyone would finally write me off. There might not be any coming back.
This is the struggle I deal with every day. Dulling my brain or risk becoming a violent maniac.
He grabbed the pills and looked at the trash can. Yes. It would be easy. As he moved towards it, the light gleamed off of a piece of metal and caught his eye.
Lucy's engagement ring. Sitting right next to him, the one place she knew it would be safest. If that didn't say everything he needed to hear about how she felt about him, he wasn't sure what would. The fact that she wants to be his wife. The fact that she's over protective of that one, small symbol of how he feels about her. That she was going to couples therapy at all.
She never did that with CJ, as far as he knew. Maggie never got that second chance. That should be enough.
He hesitated for a moment, then spun around and dropped the pill box into the bag. He turned back around to finish his letter.
Ultimately, it's not worth it. I'm not that person anymore. Maybe somewhere deep inside I am, and always will be, but I think I'm better than that.
I want nothing more than to win this match. I want to dump Tempest on his head, toss Sloane into the third row and claim the glory that should rightfully be mine. But I'm not going to compromise all of my hard work, my integrity, my self-respect, to do it.
I'm not going to lose her to be champion.
I may love wrestling more than nearly everything, but not above her. I fully plan to win, and I will fight relentlessly to do it, but there will be more championship opportunities.
There is only one Lucy Wylde.
He grabbed the notebook he had been writing in, several sheets full already, and looked at it. He was satisfied. He would probably write more later, but this was enough. Hopefully his psychiatrist would acknowledge the progress he made just from that.
He closed the notebook and tossed it into the bag. It hit the medicine box, causing the pills to rattle. After that, it was just a matter of closing the bag and he was done. His entire life, packed into two bags.
Joe turned back around and the ring caught his eye again. He grabbed it and fumbled it around in his hand. That's when he felt two wet arms wrap around him, and a warm body press against his back.
Speak of the devil. They may have problems they were working on, but she clearly still loved him.
Lucy kissed his neck, then whispered something in his ear, before turning around and going back where she came, just as quickly as she appeared.
He wasn't stupid. He followed her in.
