"Hello, Emma," the girl's therapist greeted her with a smile, offering a small wave as she stood in the doorway of the waiting room.
Emma stood quickly, feeling nervous again, and followed the woman into her office. When she sat down in the comfortable rocking chair, she began to relax.
"How are you today? How have the past few days been?"
"They've been alright, really. I guess, to be honest, I've been nervous about this."
"Meaning therapy?"
"Yeah. I hate this whole process. I hate talking about my feelings. I hate... feeling."
"May I ask you something that might be difficult to answer?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
"If you feel uncomfortable answering, you can say so. What I was going to ask is if that is the reason you self-harm."
"Because I hate feeling? Well... I guess, in a way. It's really more that I want to be in control of what I feel. I feel so out of control all the time that cutting gives me a way to... regain that control and just... feel what I want to."
"And what you want to feel is pain?"
"Well, when you put it like that, it sounds stupid," Emma sighed. "I guess it really is kind of stupid. I can't help it, though. I think about it so often. I don't tell anyone... but it's in the back of my mind all the time. Every time I feel something stressful or angering. I just want to shut everyone out and tear myself open." There was a pause, during which the therapist was silent as she watched Emma's expressions, before the girl continued, "What I want to feel is just... that I'm loved. That's the honest truth. Physical pain is the next alternative, given that it's a hell of a lot better than emotional pain."
"And you don't feel loved by the people you care about?"
"It's not like that. I just... It's when we fight, you know? When I feel like a fuck up. I don't deserve them, really. I deserve the pain. When we bicker or disagree, it makes me feel worthless, because I know it's my fault, even though I take it out on them. The last time I ended up in the hospital, it was after a huge fight with my best friend, Belle."
"And what did you fight about?"
"She..." The blonde trailed off for a while, carefully considering her words before finishing, "She didn't like my girlfriend. In a very, very serious way. And... she has feelings for me."
"I see. You used the past tense, though. Meaning she likes her now?"
"They get along. We actually all had dinner together a little while ago. It was really nice to have the two of them at the same table. It felt good, you know? Not having them bitch about each other. Having them get along."
Emma was praying the doctor wouldn't ask her why the two had such a disagreement with each other, and luckily, it paid off.
"Tell me something? What is something that would make you extremely happy? What makes you feel good?"
"Being with them makes me feel good. Something that would make me happy that I don't have now...? Moving out of my foster parents' house."
"You're almost done with school, correct? Just another... month or so?"
"Yeah, that's right. I'll be moving out after that."
"And do you think you'll be moving in with your girlfriend?"
The blonde paused and thought this over before replying, "I hadn't really thought that all the way through yet. It's probably not a great idea. I mean, she'd get sick of me. I'm there a lot already and I'm sure I get on her nerves, with her being around me so often. I should probably get my own place for a while."
"I think being independent and on your own for a while is a good idea, especially for someone who has been bounced around foster families the way you seem to have been. I also imagine it must be very intimidating to make that kind of commitment."
"That's true, too. Can't really back out of that one too easily. Pretty damn hard to run away from someone when you live with them."
"And you're worried that you'll want to run away?"
"I don't know... I mean... No. I love her. I want to be with her. But I just... What if I fuck it up, you know? What if she realizes just how fucking messed up I am and changes her mind about me? What if she just... tells me she can't handle my bullshit and wants me to leave?"
"Those are all normal fears to have when you feel the way you do about yourself, but I think you'll feel differently after we talk this through some more. From what you've said, you spend a lot of time together already. She must know you pretty well."
"Well... I guess so. I don't... There's a lot I don't talk about, though. I mean, she knows about my depression. She was there when I was in the hospital. She freaked out, actually. But... she doesn't really know about my past, and I think it would really mess her up if she knew the whole story. I know her, and she'd feel like she had to fix me, and I feel like that would just freak her out and overwhelm her and she'd panic and just... leave."
"You trust her, though?"
"Well, yeah. But that's... I... That's not the point."
"I think it has a lot to do with it. I think you might want to try allowing yourself to trust her to love you no matter what. It sounds like you've been through a lot already."
"We have. Still... I'm so messed up, and I just... What... What if..."
A hiccup burst through her as tears began to spill from her eyes in a moment of panic, which both surprised and horrified her. Covering her mouth, she mumbled an apology, but found herself unable to stop crying. Her therapist gently leaned over the coffee table and handed her the box of tissues that was sitting between them.
"It's okay, Emma. I understand. It's perfectly fine to cry in here."
"I don't... I don't want to cry anymore," the blonde sniffled, frantically wiping her eyes.
"Emma," the woman sighed. "There's nothing wrong with crying. Everyone cries. And this is a perfectly reasonable fear to have. It's a perfectly good reason to cry." When the girl continued to look distressed and said nothing, she added gently, "But I think this is something you should discuss with her, sooner rather than later. I think she should know about your fears and how you feel about yourself and your relationship."
"I don't want to open up to her and get hurt even more," Emma sobbed. "I don't know what I'm doing. She started talking about marriage and I freaked the fuck out and told her I didn't want to talk about it. I can't even imagine how much that hurt her! How could I be such an asshole? Who wouldn't want to marry her? She's beautiful, and smart, and funny, and adorable... She's perfect. There's nothing I would change. But... But me... I'm... I'm..."
"Emma, sweetie, it's okay to feel scared of commitment. Lots of people are. But if your relationship is as strong as it seems, and if you love her the way you say you do, I'm sure you two will work out something that you're both comfortable with."
"W-What if she leaves because I don't want to get married?"
"Are you sure you don't want to get married?"
"Well, no, but I... I..."
"It's not something you need to decide now. It's something you have plenty of time to think about. You're still very young."
"But what if I'm wasting her time? What if she... What if she sees the real me and doesn't love me anymore? What if she doesn't even love me now and she's just-"
"I don't think she'd be with you if she didn't love you, Emma. You're a wonderful girl. You're very polite, and sweet, and sincere. Most importantly, you are extremely considerate and caring. I don't have to think hard to imagine what she sees in you."
This rendered the girl silent for a few moments as she wiped her tears and tried to form words. The confessions were overwhelming, and it made her feel exhausted from the effort and emotional vulnerability.
Finally, she asked, "How do you know I'm considerate and caring?"
"Because one of the first things you said to me is that you want to get to a place where you treat your loved ones better than you have been, and that you care what they think about you and how your actions affect them."
"I'm too scared to get married. That's the truth. I'm too scared to commit to moving in with her. I don't want to be with anyone else, but I don't want to feel trapped either. And I know she's going to ask me to move in with her when I graduate and I just don't know what the fuck I'm going to say! What do I do?"
"We'll have to work on that. I can see that this is very difficult and upsetting for you, so let's stop for today. I'd be happy to see you again on Monday, if you'd like. I think you have a lot of options we can discuss. It's not just black or white in this scenario."
"I... Thank you, Doctor Cohen," Emma sniffled, wiping her eyes once again and tossing the handful of tissues into the waste bin. "You've been very kind to me, and I appreciate you putting up with all my bullshit."
"It's not bullshit, Emma. It's just emotions. Normal, healthy emotions that we can deal with together."
"I hope so."
"And please... Call me Danielle."
"Alright. I'll see you next week then. Thank you again... Danielle."
"Of course. Have a good weekend, okay? Do some thinking, but not too hard."
With a tender smile, the doctor stood and saw her patient to the door.