The Beautiful You

Twenty-three ~ A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant to Be

I tapped my fingers on the arm rest as my therapist rummaged for something in her desk. The wall behind her was a large shelf filled to the brim with books. The office wasn't too small, but it felt a little claustrophobic.

Maybe that was just me.

I glanced at her degrees framed on the walls, the highest of them being a doctorate in counseling. My gaze wandered towards a pride sticker that read "We Support LGBTQ+ Youth" stuck to the bookshelf behind her. It wasn't the first time I had noticed it; during our first few sessions, my eyes kept wandering towards it.

I didn't speak at our first session. We sat in silence.

Well, I chose to just sit there in silence.

I think she would have liked it if I talked, but I wasn't up for venting to a complete stranger. It was uncomfortable, and I didn't know where to begin.

It wasn't until our second session that she said, "You and I are the only two people who get to hear our conversations. No one else gets to know what you say unless you tell them. This whole thing right here only works if you decide you want it to. But if you think silence works, then that's fine too."

She also reassured me that my parents wouldn't know the details of our sessions. The only time she would actually have to inform them about anything would be if she thought I was a danger to myself or others. She made that clear too.

"Aha!" She cheered.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as she lifted up a plain brown journal in triumph. She smiled as she made her way to the seat across from me.

"For you," she said, handing me the journal. I nodded and took it into my hands.

"Dr. Gonzales, I don't really need this. I don't write anything," I said.

"I haven't explained anything yet," she said. "Also, don't feel pressured to address me as Dr. Gonzales. You can call me Carmen, or whatever is most comfortable."

"I'm not sure which is more comfortable. This all feels uncomfortable," I admitted.

Dr. Gonzales nodded, "It can be daunting. Especially when it's something you're not used to, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Do you remember the goals we planned out a couple sessions ago?" She asked.

I nodded, tapping the armrest of the sofa. We spent the last two sessions on my goals, figuring out what I wanted to get out of therapy, things I wanted to improve, and some other things I can't really remember.

"We're still in the beginning stages of therapy, so I'd like to get to know you better. Getting to know things about you, your family, and your personal relationships is going to help me understand you better. I hope that a better understanding can lead to the best outcome."

"Yeah, it makes sense," I agreed. Most of the time I felt like I was just agreeing for the sake of getting through these sessions. It was a lot of talking about myself, which was something I wasn't used to.

"Do you want to start?" She smiled, clicking her pen.

I shrugged. "Just talk about anyone?" I asked.

She nodded and said, "Correct."

"W-well," I hesitated. "Uhm, there's my mom. She's good and all, but she tries really hard... to keep me happy."

"How do you think she's doing with that, with keeping you happy?"

I shrugged and mumbled, "She exhausts me."

"How does she exhaust you?"

I stared down at my hands, picking at the dry skin on my fingers. "She wants me to be the same kid I was when I was 13."