"Before you start to inspect me," she started in a hoarse voice, "I should tell you myself that I had an argument with mom, and-" she sighed, closing her eyes trying to gather words. "And it didn't go well."
I was kind of glad that she started the conversation and also I didn't have to struggle to know what actually happened. Well, I kind of guessed the reason for their arguments.
"It's about the school isn't it?" my tone sounded sure, but her eyes didn't seem surprised.
"I knew, that you would guess it out," her voice was too plain, but there was something in her attitude. Something I know is not too harsh maybe but still complicated. And also all those sessions are not in vain, she is still speaking and is trusting me, if I am not wrong.
So I let her explain, "I'm all ears. Tell me what happened?" I started, resting my elbows on my knees. My eyes were trying to find emotions in her. My forehead was free of any stray hair. It was shining from the light in the room. All my eager emotions were in front of her. Trying to tell her that, you can say whatever you want, by blinking at her with my light brown eyes. She stretched her legs, straightening her posture. She sighed. Still, no emotions were on her worn out face.
"I am not ready, yet. For school or any social interaction." There it was as I guessed. But something about her behavior told me two things, one she is going to be easy today or two she is going to have an outburst. Which I definitely don't want.
"But mom - she is just not listening-" she paused, and for the first time today I saw her frown (at least she showed).
"She just keeps saying that I should do this or that. But she just doesn't understand that I am not in a good state." she dropped her head, her hands refraining her hair to fall in front of her face. I stood up and filled a glass of water and placed her in front of her. Which she took, and I heard a muffled thank you before I sat back in front of her. Observing her from this view gave me many signals. But I instantly pushed them out. Because today I was not going to make any assumptions, not that I did make assumptions in previous sessions but still she used to be so quiet so I had to make some mental notes back then to understand her. But fortunately, she was voicing out her ideas. That was progress.
"I think you should talk to her." she spoke out after taking two to three sips from the glass. " You will make her understand," I saw her gaze locked on me. Her eyes were pleading. Pleading for more dopamine release. She was rescued from her suicidal thoughts. But she was afraid to fall into that hole again. To face the world. It was good that she was not having those lost feelings. But it was not enough. She needed to face the world. To cope with those challenges. To have resilience. Because in a therapist room, she cannot learn how to deal with different emotions. And I saw that coming already. I did ignore it but I had to break it to her today.
"The thing is, Catherine-" I stared at her questioning eyes. "I don't think she is wrong. You should have a new start."
Confused, disgusted, disappointed whatever you say, I saw everything on her face. Yes, that was not a very big thing I just said. But she was going through puberty, quite hard. And her problem was the way she reacted. Having a violent history of suicide, I did expect her to over react. Because I did make her comfortable, listening to her or saying that it's okay. She was trusting me. But also her young mind didn't understand how important it was for her to interact. Unfortunately, we adults knew. She was not expecting this from me. And no matter how much I hated that disgusted look on her face, I had to do this.
"I don't -", a tear rolled out of her eyes. "Are you on my mom's side now? It makes sense she pays you." I wanted to laugh at the top of my lungs, instead I decided not to react.
"Catherine, please don't cry." my hands moving nervously. "Please, just listen -"
"NO!!" she shouted so violently. I almost flinched at his sudden harsh voice.
"YOU LISTEN TO ME!" she screamed with the same energy. This time I did flinch. Her voice was almost unrecognizable. She was clearly shaking. For a moment, I did consider ending the session. But for some reason I didn't. Relapse, it was a relapse. As I had predicted, she was addicted to that minute, small dose of dopamine. But I was not the world she was going to face, and she also knew that. But little did she know that there was much to explore and she was only seeing the picture from one angle.
Tears falling out of her eyes like a stream. I didn't consider it appropriate to drag the glass of water in front of her, signaling her to drink it. As it was already in her reach.
"I am listening to you Catherine, say what you want." I stated sternly.
She sniffed, her sobs filling the room.
"You don't know, Ethan. You don't know," her voice quivered, diving into another sob. It was low this time. Feeling helpless. I didn't want her to feel that way.
"So tell me, please." my voice was practically pleading with her.
"Girls are mean." she cleared a lump in her throat. Her voice was trembling.
"You know that look? When they check you. How you dress, how you do your makeup. Are you cool or not? Or would it be cool to hang out with you. They do this silently. And after your first interaction with them. You are treated like the impression they got of you. And me? I am always treated like a shit." I decided not to comment. And she continued, thinking out loud.
"And boys. Boys aren't different. Maybe they are even worse. They analyze your worth. How girls treat you and then they treat you even worse. Harassing. Objectifying, adding fuel to the fire." she let out another sob.
"Do you want me to tell you about teachers, counselors and the whole school? They literally told me to die. My teacher literally said that I have a bad impression on students, I should stop. And they said, "I overreacted when I tried to stop living." she stopped. Her eyes were not leaving me. They were wide open. No more tears. Just a cold gaze. It's true It did scare me, but when she blinked her chest moving with fast breathing. I let out a relieved sigh.
Misinterpreting words, misunderstanding attitudes, misjudging were her faults. But choosing the right words to say, going easy on her and not letting out hate vibes were options also available to handle the situation better. And no matter what adults say, they were guilty for her mental health.
"I know it's hard. More than I or anyone can imagine. To feel uninvited, a feeling not belonging to the place where you are. But you are much more than that. Your worth is -" her eyes were giving me shivers. But I completed what I was saying, "your worth is independent of their existence. You are Catherine Lancaster. Standing with your own charms, own ideas. You have your own reasons to be in this world. And it's incomplete without you being here." I noticed my shoulders were tense. Her gaze softened at me. Filled with tears. She blinked to free them. This was neither frustration nor anger. A catharsis, to admit that she did miss those words. Although, they were never told to her. But this feeling felt nostalgic to her. A feeling of being important, a sense of being special and most of all being needed. A person who is feared to get lost, not the one they want to get disappear. As she felt when she was a child.
"You are you, Catherine. And no one can change that. Even if you had ended your life, it would not have changed the fact that you existed. And your place would have been emptied but not occupied." she was listening, crying silently. I felt my voice almost whispering as I ended the sentence.
Twenty minutes had passed, she was quiet. not crying or sobbing. I busied myself reading a file in front of me. I heard her voice, soft. she felt different from the condition she was in thirty minutes ago.
"How did your dog die? Cinnamon?" I lifted my attention, all to her. Her features were still worn out but she wasn't. She was feeling what she was saying out of her mouth. she remembered, even though it bothered her that time.
"Her heart stopped. It was weak from birth." I informed her in a low voice.
Well this was the end I informed her.
Sunflower field, cinnamon running, familiar hands carrying her to give it to me, giggles of two kids, icecream, 'summer is fun' a very familiar voice exclaiming. All this flashbacked to me in a millisecond. And I shrugged myself out of my thoughts, when I heard her say;
"It must be very difficult for you," A faint smile resting on her lips.
"It was. But the doctor said she was going to suffer more if she had lived more, and I definitely didn't want that."
"Still, she was one of her kind for you," her pitying eyes were resting on my face.
"She was," I agreed, nodding my head.