Letters To My Sister's Shrink Quotes

“Kathryn, Shannon's letters are her perception of reality. Whether or not the events happened exactly as she described them or not is actually irrelevant. I am interested in how she thinks these events happened or what she believes was going through her mind even more than I am of what really happened. As well as your perception of what happened. Would you share with me, please?"
 ​I recoiled in my chair, slightly indignant.”
― Heather Balog, Letters To My Sister's Shrink

“He was mayor and assemblyman, but had died tragically in a plane crash during his campaign for senator. I think fulfilling his father's dreams was part of Brad's drive into politics. So needless to say, I was representing his family, and it was imperative to be presentable at all times in public. No more running to the store in pajamas and hair curlers. Oh, wait, I never did that. That was Shannon, I thought smugly.
 ​"Dr. Wallace," I repeated, my train of thought having completely derailed. "I'm sure you are aware that my sister is not only suffering from a deluded sense of present reality, her memory of past events is also incredibly warped. This.." I lightly touched the notebook paper on which Shannon had written her letter. "Is nothing more than a pack of lies."
 ​Sitting back in the comfortable chair, I crossed my arms over my chest. I was a little sore,”
― Heather Balog, Letters To My Sister's Shrink

“Blood had been pouring from my body, so much more than could be held back by a simple bandaid. Maybe I had been to the hospital and they stitched it up? Were there stitches underneath this bandaid?  I didn't remember going to the hospital, but then again, I didn't remember much from last night. Why wasn't I in the hospital now? Shouldn't a suicidal teenager be in the hospital? Or some sort of mental institution? Why was I here, lying in my bed?
 ​Confused, I struggled to sit up. "Who put this bandaid here?"
  ​Katie rolled her eyes and leaned towards me, not attempting to help me sit up. "Mom did, of course. You cut your wrist on the glass bottle that you smashed all over my bed." She narrowed her stormy gray eyes at me. "Thanks a lot for that, by the way. We had to throw my bedding out. I guess I have to keep an eye on you at all times, don't I? You're like a baby."
​ I was stunned. They thought I had cut myself by accident! They didn't realize I had done it on purpose! Didn't I make it clear that I was trying to KILL myself? Wasn't my desperate plea for help loud enough?”
― Heather Balog, Letters To My Sister's Shrink

“I pushed the elevator button impatiently. I needed to get out of this place. My sister had behaved badly as usual and somehow, I felt as if I were the one being punished.”
― Heather Balog, Letters To My Sister's Shrink

“​Dr. Wallace shook her head and I swear her voice was slightly condescending."Mrs. Davis, Shannon is very ill. Although she has been discharged, she still needs to come to therapy for quite some time. Even though she won’t speak to me now, I’m hoping for some breakthroughs with Shannon. She needs you to attend these therapy sessions in order to make progress."
 ​Rolling my eyes upwards, I replied with annoyance, "I have other things in my life, Doctor. I do have two children. Five and six. Boys. They have very busy schedules. Hockey and piano lessons and play dates. I'm not like Shannon with no responsibilities or a care in the world." I also have a live in nanny, but the doctor doesn’t need to know that, right?
 ​"I understand. Boys are busy little creatures. I have four of them," she replied, no malice in her voice whatsoever.
 ​"Oh," I replied curtly. Well, I'm sure her social calendar is not nearly as filled as yours, Kathryn.”
― Heather Balog, Letters To My Sister's Shrink

“I think, no, I know, my parents loved each other, but I don't think they could live together anymore. Dad kissed my forehead, stood up and headed to the door. As he picked up his suitcase and pushed open the door, he gave me a half-hearted wave and told me to be a good girl.”
​I”
― Heather Balog, Letters To My Sister's Shrink

“So anyway, he knelt down in front of the couch and took my hand into his. I remember feeling that it was so cold and clammy for such a warm morning.
‘Katie,’ he said. ‘I haven't been 100% honest with you. I'm not exactly going away for work.’ He sighed again, closing his eyes slightly, as if he were willing himself away from the situation.
 ‘Your mother and I are having some problems. Adult things. It’s nothing that you kids need to worry yourselves with. I'm taking a little vacation so that we can sort out what's going on with us without bothering you guys.’ He squeezed my hand. ‘You understand what I'm saying, right?’
I nodded.”
― Heather Balog, Letters To My Sister's Shrink

“Dad ran his fingers through his short and rapidly graying hair. He was only 38 at the time, but he had aged quickly in the preceding years. After Mom...well, after she was diagnosed."
​I paused in my tale to examine Dr. Wallace's reaction to my mention of Mom's illness. My mother had been clinically depressed for as long as I could remember. She had good days and bad days, but after my father left, the bad overtook the good. Dr. Wallace's expression had remained neutral thus far and I wondered what exactly Shannon had revealed about our mother's condition. How much had she blamed my mother for her illness that she couldn't help? I mean, why couldn't Shannon understand why Mom was like she was? Mom had no family in the states, she worked as a librarian in the most boring library on the planet and her husband was hardly around.”
― Heather Balog, Letters To My Sister's Shrink

“​Yes, we were the Claytons from Dayton. Quaint and cheerful. Well, I was beginning to learn, at quite a young age, that our family was far from quaint and cheerful. As I confronted my father on this late summer dawn, I could sense his desire to dash out the door without any further questions from me.
                                                                                         “I felt hurt and I didn't know why. ‘Daddy, are you leaving us?’
“My father made a face that I can only describe as a grimace. He glanced up the stairs towards the bedrooms where everyone else was sound asleep and then set his suitcase down at the door. Creeping over to me, he avoided that pesky loose floorboard.
‘No, no. I'm just going on a little vacation’
‘Why aren't you taking us on vacation?’ I demanded, trying not to sound wounded and whiny. 
‘Well because, Katie, this is a trip for work.”
― Heather Balog, Letters To My Sister's Shrink

“The day my father left was a sweltering morning in late August. You wouldn't have known it by the way he was dressed, wearing khakis and a pullover sweatshirt. He had a winter coat draped over his left arm while he attempted to silently roll the ugly olive green Samsonite luggage he and Mom had purchased on their honeymoon out the door without disturbing anyone in the household. He did a lousy job because I could hear the straining of the front door on its hinges from my spot on the couch.
“‘Daddy?’ I rubbed my groggy eyes and squinted to see him in the early morning light. It couldn't have been any later than 5:30 or 6:00 as the morning sky only showed hints of pink and brightness on the horizon.
“He placed his finger to his lips and replied with a quiet ‘Shhh, Kathryn.’
“Sitting up on the couch where I had slept the night before, because I had a habit of sleep walking, I asked, ‘Where are you going, Daddy?’
“He glanced around and in the faint light I could see him lick his lips, a nervous habit of his. He did it when my mother would grill him about where he had been that afternoon after the store had closed. He also did it when my mother asked if he paid the gas bill or the electric bill as the lights were flickering. He did it when we kids would ask him a school question that he didn't know the answer to.”
― Heather Balog, Letters To My Sister's Shrink