I'm begging you to

Chapter 15 - For me

Chapter 15:

The bright and clean room enveloped Agnetha in a cocoon of familiarity, every corner imbued with a gentle sense of comfort and understanding. The walls, painted in bright pastel colours, seemed to breathe with a sense of calm, while the gentle hum of the air conditioning provided a steady rhythm that strangely soothed her. Somehow there was always a hint of lavender in the air and she wondered if it was meant to calm the minds and tempers of some of the patients.

How many times had her eyes flitted around the room. By now she knew every corner, every leaf of the house-plants and the pattern of the carpet by heart. Nothing had changed at all since the day she had first come here. Everything was still in its place. Since nothing was in its place inside of her and she had little that really remained constant, even though she deeply longed for it, she was all the more grateful for this place.

Seated in the well-worn chair, Agnetha gazed around the room, her eyes tracing the familiar contours of the space she's come to know so well. It's been years since she first set foot in this therapist's office to sort out the chaos inside her. This older woman, who was basically a stranger, that was now sitting across from her knew more about her than any other person on this earth. Agnetha had always felt a strong need to finally talk to someone. To stop having to keep it all inside of her until it would eat her up. But she couldn't. There was no one she could trust with the darkest depths of her mind. Another downside of her job always being in the public eye. So this place had been her only option. And she didn't regret it. It was probably one of the best decisions she had ever made.

And although this woman actually knew more than Agnetha herself would have liked, she didn't know everything. There were still things she could never confide in anyone. Like that one summer night, for example, which had been the reason why she was here now. Nor did the other woman know anything about Margareta or the others. It was not important. It had no meaning. And despite the time that had passed, she had always thought that the pain in her heart would remain a constant companion forever.

But today something felt different. She felt different. There was a subtle change in the air, almost like hope. With a calming breath, she turned her attention to the therapist.

"I think... I think I'm finally ready to let go," Agnetha murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to give voice to the thoughts that have long lingered in the shadows of her mind. "To move on completely."

The old lady, who had been scribbling on her notepad a moment ago, raises her head in surprise. Then she offered a gentle nod, her eyes brimming with understanding.

"It's a big step, Agnetha. And one that takes courage. But know that I'm here to support you every step of the way."

Agnetha's gaze flickered downward, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap as she struggled to find the words to articulate the tumult of emotions churning within her.

"I've been holding onto these feelings for so long," she admited, her voice tinged with a vulnerability she rarely allowed herself to show in front of others.

"But it's time... It's time to release them. I want... No, I have to get rid of it completely. There's no point anymore."

As the weight of her confession hung heavy in the air, Mrs. Johansson offered a suggestion, a lifeline Agnetha could grab in the midst of the storm, and perhaps also a final step she needed to take.

"Maybe writing a letter to Frida could help you express everything you've been holding onto," she proposed gently. "You can put all your emotions, everything you've ever wanted to say, into words and then decide what you want to do with it. You can burn it, tear it up, or even send it to her if you feel ready."

At the mention of Frida's name, Agnetha's heart pounded in her chest. She knew that Mrs. Johansson meant well, that the suggestion came from genuine concern and care. After all she had been practicing this profession for decades, so she must know what she was doing. And yet the thought of putting pen to paper, of exposing her deepest thoughts and vulnerabilities, filled Agnetha with a fear she couldn't quite express. Until now, she had always strongly avoided expressing her feelings to Mrs. Johansson and to herself literally. She had to do it to give the whole thing a certain distance. And no matter how she justified it, she also knew that she was terrified of what it would do to her to say it directly. Completely naked, word for word, giving the feeling its name.

"No," she said quickly and hastily, as if afraid that speaking the words aloud will make them real. Let alone sending these words to the very woman, who probably didn't have the faintest clue and also didn't even care. "I don't want to do that."

The therapist nodded understandingly. "That's okay, Agnetha. It's important to honour your own boundaries and take things at your own pace. Remember, healing is a journey, and there's no right or wrong way to navigate it."

Sometimes this old wise woman talked as if she was reading straight out of a clever psychology book. And even if something inside of Agnetha wanted to resist, she knew with a little common sense and understanding that she was right after all.

"But I will write the letter. For me."