'Bent Over Backwards' by Adele Evershed

When I was little, I stood straight like other people. Sometimes, I even tipped forward like a question mark. I don't remember that; I only know because of the photos I found in the attic.

If I can pinpoint when it started, Jack thinks I might begin to straighten myself out, move out of my parent's house, and have a life. Yes, he used the word 'straighten,' which made me like him immediately. Jack says I need to deal with my past so I can assert some control over my future. But, of course, he didn't use the word 'some'; he talks in absolutes, that word is mine.

Dr. Bennett (call me Jack) is the last one in a long line of doctors. He doesn't deal in bones or genetics; he's a psychoanalyst and deals with empathy. So instead of x-rays of my skeleton, he is shining a light on my subconscious.

Jack and I rake through my childhood, but it was not in any way remarkable. I am an only child of older parents. They were a little slaphappy (still are, but I don't tell Jack that), and I tried to avoid Da when he came home reeking of beer. That's easier now I'm grown. I helped Mam with the chores, and now I do them all. She's not an easy woman to please. She likes everything 'spick and span,' and I am finding it challenging to get everything done because of the extra time with Jack. Yesterday she told me I had to stop seeing him and for the first time I told her 'No.' Her face was a picture!

Today Jack measured me and said I'd straightened up by three inches since starting our sessions, so maybe therapy is working. No, not 'maybe'—therapy is working.