Work Text:
Susanna was in her late 60s when she heard the term "favorite person" for the first time and, suddenly, a whole bunch of shit from her early adulthood made sense.
The therapist had said the phrase offhandedly in response to finally unpacking the stuff with Lisa, and Susanna quickly stopped her, demanding she elaborate. She was thankful that, unlike the doctors at Claymoore, this therapist would actually tell her things to help her better understand her deeply confusing psyche. As it would turn out, "recovered Borderline" didn't mean the disorder had gone, so she still liked to keep educated about the condition. She didn't want to be hospitalized ever again.
The doctor explained to her that what most likely happened with Lisa was that she had become her favorite person, meaning Susanna's brain had placed an unhealthy amount of importance on Lisa and what Lisa thought and what Lisa did. The more she explained, the more Susanna realized that this was exactly what had happened with Lisa, as well as a boyfriend she'd had a bit later in life.
She suddenly didn't feel so crazy for running away with Lisa or growing hostile and bitter when Lisa had left her the first time. At the time, she'd felt crazy. Hell, she always just assumed that she was crazy for behaving in such a way. Sure, maybe not as crazy as Lisa or Polly or Janet or Georgina or Daisy or the countless other girls in that facility, but crazy nonetheless.
But this wasn't the 1960s anymore, and now she had a label for that aspect of her craziness. Lisa wasn't a girl she'd grown obsessed with because she was a lunatic with parental issues. Lisa had become her favorite person. Having this new information, Susanna cried in front of that therapist for the first time that day. Because she wasn't crazy.
And she never was.