Lonely

Therapy / Chapter VIII

HUGE TRIGGER WARNING - Domestic abuse description. Please, take care of yourself and do not read if this is a difficult topic for you. Love you so much.

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I bit my lip nervously as I was waiting before the door with "14" on it.

"Valerie?" A woman stepped out of the room and invited me in. I smiled awkwardly and went in. It didn't look too different from my own room, same colour palette, but a bit more comfortable. There were candles lit, two big armchairs in the middle of the room, the light was not as harsh as everywhere else. "Please, take a seat." The woman gestured to the velvet chair. I sat down and oh my, it was so comfortable, I would never want to leave. She sat opposite of me and opened a notebook. "So...Valerie, is this how you want me to call you? Do you have a preferred name?"

"Valerie is okay. How I should call you? Are you a doctor, or...?"

"I'm Catherine and I'm a psychotherapist here at Nightingale. I am a doctor, but I'd rather you felt comfortable here, so you can just call me Catherine, Cate, whichever you prefer."

"Nice to meet you." I smiled politely and looked around. "To be quite honest, I don't even know how to start or what to say."

"It's alright, don't worry about it. First, I just want to know some things about you, like an interview. What do you like to do in your free time?"

"I sing. That's my main...I guess you could say passion. I write songs and I play the piano. Maybe one day I could do it full time. Other than that, I enjoy makeup, but it's more of a hobby. And work, I'm a makeup artist at Harrods."

"Nice, an artistic soul." She wrote something in her notebook. "And coming back to the music aspect of your life, you mentioned you write songs. What are they usually about?"

"Mostly um...self loathing, lack of confidence, sadness, heartbreak, family or lack thereof. Just your usual singer-songwriter crap." I counted and chuckled.

"Do you often use humour as a coping mechanism?" A rhetorical question and another note in the notebook. "You said family, do you want to tell me a few things about your childhood? Only if you feel comfortable."

"Yeah, it's okay. I don't have anything to hide, I also don't think I was traumatised or anything. I'm an only child, my parents had me quite young. I never lacked anything, actually I think my family was doing quite well financially. I did alright at school. Currently I don't really talk with my dad, my mom I sometimes call, but not often." That sums it up, let's call it a day, doc.

"Why? Did something happen?"

"They're getting a divorce. After 30 years of marriage. It kind of destroyed the "till death do us part" magic for me. And my dad is an alcoholic, so I don't feel like I want to be in the middle of this shitstorm. Sorry-" I covered my mouth.

"It's okay, you can swear here. So your dad is an alcoholic...is this a recent thing or was the alcohol present in your life from childhood?'

"Oh, definitely present from childhood."

"Yelling, fights?"

"It's like you were there...yeah." I hesitated for a bit. Catherine raised her brow, noticing I hesitated. "I don't remember much. There might have been one situation I have some memory of..."

"Do you want to share it with me?"

"I don't think I've ever told anyone. But I think I maybe should." I shifted in my seat, trying to find a comfortable position. I took a deep breath. "So...I might have been eight at that point, maybe nine. My mom didn't work when I was a kid and so the money was being provided by my dad. That day we, I mean my mom and I, went shopping, I think we were supposed to get some clothes to school. I don't remember exactly, but regardless, they were necessities. And, as a eight-ish kid, I wanted something I liked from the store, obviously, that wasn't a necessary purchase. I think I was kind of pushy. My mom thought about it and she ended up buying it for me. Of course, once we were back home, I wanted to show off the things to my dad." I shook my head, trying to back down. "I don't remember much."