Carla tried to calm her breathing as she sat nervously on one of the plastic chairs in the waiting room. She was early, far too early; it was the first time she had been trusted to make a journey on her own and she had wanted to make sure she didn't mess it up. Peter had always been at her appointments before, holding her hand, stopping her from leaving before her name was called. Her recovery was progressing well, that's what they had told her in the most recent of the many clinics, so she needed to start regaining the independence she had lost. It was strange to be out alone; she could tell that Peter was worried as he left her this morning. He had been back at work for a few days, leaving her in the flat, checking in every couple of hours, but today was the next step and she knew he was apprehensive about whether she could do this alone. She was determined to show him that she could; she had caused him so much stress and grief over the last few months, she yearned for the day they could go back to being just another couple, facing day to day challenges together. Since her breakdown he had taken on the role of her carer and she was eternally grateful to him, but sometimes she felt like he spent all his time discussing her medication regime and checking up on her when all she wanted was an ordinary relationship; she wanted to go back to how they had used to be, him teasing her, testing her without worrying she would break again.
Her thoughts drifted to the session ahead. She had seen so many psychiatrists and doctors recently, analysing her every thought and move, she had felt like there was nothing more they could probe. This was different though. Previously her thoughts had been so confused she had struggled to really engage in the meetings, she didn't even remember the first couple whilst she was in hospital, and it was only in recent days that she had started to really feel herself again, her medication had calmed her symptoms enough for her to understand what had happened to her, and that people were trying to help her. She was seeing somebody different today. She understood that they wanted to help her get to the root of why she had the breakdown, and that she needed to open up and be prepared to discuss the things that she had shied away from before. That was quite a list. She had always thought of counselling as a waste of time, a sign of weakness; she had tried a few sessions after the rape but never really given it a chance, preferring to go back to her tried and tested method of denial, boxing it off in her head and pretending it hadn't happened. That was no longer an option. There were now too many boxes, it was finally time for her to open them and actually deal with what was inside. She owed it to Peter and everyone who had helped her to at least try, she couldn't put them through this again.
Where on earth would she start? The trigger of her breakdown would be the obvious choice, the factory collapse and her decisions that led to it, the guilt she knew she would carry for the rest of her life. But she had been through this countless times already, and if she was honest with herself then she knew it had started before; she had been struggling for months, her bad choices a result of trying to cope on her own, not asking for help, or admitting how deeply she had been affected by Aiden's death.
Aiden. She still blamed herself for what happened to him; how she pushed him too hard, was constantly on at him, making him feel like he wasn't good enough. That was never her intention of course but she had spent countless nights mulling it over, wishing she had been less controlling, that she could have been a better sister to him and helped him through. He had saved her life, his kidney the greatest gift anyone could have given, yet she hadn't noticed his pain, missed the signs that he was internally screaming. She couldn't forgive herself for this, after all, if anyone had experience of what that felt like it was her.
Suicide. She had come close to ending her life twice before. The second time had echoes of her most recent trauma, she had shouldered responsibility for the death of two people in a fire at her flat and the weight of it had been too much for her to bear. Finding out she wasn't to blame had pulled her back from the brink, but she had no doubt that she wouldn't be here now if the truth hadn't come out when it did. The real culprit, Tracy, had a lot to answer for and Carla wondered how her nemesis was able to carry on with her life so easily; was she really that much stronger? Or was it just that Tracy's moral code was so warped that anything could be justified in her mind. She knew the answer, Tracy was just a cold-hearted bitch. This was something people had accused Carla of being numerous times, but for her it was all an act; one which in recent years she had found harder to play convincingly.
Her other, earlier suicide attempt was very nearly successful. The trauma of the rape, of what Frank had done to her, had led her to an extremely dark place; one which she had been desperate to escape from, tablets and alcohol the route she took. She still blamed herself, even though she knew this was irrational. Maybe that's why she was determined to give counselling a try this time, to see if it could quiet these feelings that were still lingering just below the surface. She had treated Frank badly, used him to try and make Peter jealous, and as warped as it was she couldn't shake the feeling that her actions had driven him to do what he did. Peter had been the one to save her. She had relied on him back then too; he was an anchor holding her steady through the storm. He had found her just in time and supported her in the weeks afterwards, putting her back together, helping her cope with Franks evil game playing. When he told her he loved her it gave her strength to continue, a reason to live. He had rescued her from her demons, and not for the first time.
Alcohol. Her constant companion through so many traumas. Without Peter she was sure she would have tipped right over the edge and completely lost control of her drinking all those years ago. It was her crux that she still fell back to, but Peter had showed her the damage it could do. It was a symptom and not the cause of her problems, and she knew exactly what had triggered the change from wanting to needing it that first time. Liam. Both the loss of him, her first true love, and the guilt she carried for his death. He had been killed because of her and like with Frank she believed that she was directly responsible for what Tony did. The crime was driven by jealousy, and her actions were the cause. Liam's loss was the first time she had felt her heart ripped from her body. Unfortunately she had experienced that pain again.
The loss of her baby girl had been truly devastating. She still thought about her every day, wondered what might have been, what she would look like. She had blamed Peter for a long time, his betrayal with Tina caused her world to crumble, and the miscarriage was the outcome. Time had altered her perspective on this however, she accepted some of the blame for Peter straying; she had been too overbearing, always in the driving seat, and Tina was his release. This didn't excuse it by any means, but it meant that she had to accept that she too had contributed to the chaos that resulted. She had never seen herself as a mother, in fact the thought had previously repulsed her, but she grew to love the child growing inside her, more than she ever thought possible, and had started making so many plans of how their life would be. She had made a promise to herself that her baby would never suffer the childhood that she had. It had been her biggest fear that she would follow in her mother's footsteps, but the rush of love she felt had convinced her that she was capable of giving the affection so lacking in her own upbringing.
Her childhood. They always say that most issues lead back here don't they. Carla thought about her early life, she envied people who talked with fondness about growing up, she felt nothing but sadness. She had tried so hard to be a good daughter, a good sister, but whatever she did she was greeted with the same indifference. All she had wanted was love and affection, she could have coped with having nothing else if she had felt her mum had cared. Finding out about Johnny all those years later had just compounded the feelings of unworthiness, his efforts since the truth came out not compensating for the fact that he hadn't wanted her, didn't help her escape when he had the chance. She wondered if everything really did lead back to here. Her need to be loved causing unhealthy obsession, driving men in her life to do awful things; her feelings of worthlessness still haunting her today, her need to feel valued making her push herself too far and control the people around her. It was a long time since she'd let herself consider this, and it was almost a release for her, the idea that her issues did have an origin in her past. If there was a cause, there could be a solution.
She was summoned from her thoughts by the sound of her name being called. It was time for her session and she was finally ready to face her demons. She smiled to herself, that poor counsellor had no idea what they were in for…