True Colours - But A Daydream Away (Jalex)

Chapter 7

After he closed the door I looked at Mr Rohand. "Is it okay, when I call you Jack, or do you prefer Mister Barakat?", he asked me, while taking a chair to sit next to my bed. "Jack", I said quietly, getting nervous. I've never spoken to a therapist before and I didn't want to. Actually I thought I couldn't speak to him. I can't talk about my feelings or why I did ... certain things to myself and well, I didn't want to.

Suddenly I felt so stupid, because the actual reason I started having depression was Alex – or me being in love with him, but thinking that could never happen. And now I had found out he liked me back, so everything should be alright, shouldn't it?

But I knew it didn't work like that. I was still depressed. This one kiss and that one confession couldn't heal a mental illness. It could maybe help me to stop cutting or in general help me, but not heal me. The depression was too deep into me already. I hadn't only been anxious about seeing Alex, I kind of developed a social anxiety and an anxiety before exams – which kind of caused the anxiety of the future. It just invaded every part in my life. I had barely eaten, barely smiled and barely talked for some months, and I couldn't just start new like I had acted before everything, could I?

"Jack, what are you thinking about?"; Mr Rohand pulled me out of my thoughts. This was like my worst nightmare. Okay, no it wasn't, but I had absolutely no idea what to say. "Uhm ... everything?", I tried. "Hmm... Maybe we should start from the beginning", he nodded, thinking, "so, have ever been to a therapist before?" I just shook my head. "Then it might be a little weird and maybe uncomfortable, right?" I nodded. "You know you don't have to answer everything, but I need to know as much about your life as possible to find the cause of your depression and the best therapy or medication."

Great. I knew why I got depression, and I didn't want medication. "But maybe we should start with a little small talk, to get to know each other, because I know it's difficult to tell ... well ... secrets to a stranger. We could talk about your hobbies. What do you like to do?"

Well, what did I like? Lying in bed and crying my eyes out to sad music? Yeah, I should totally say that... "Maybe listening to music or playing the guitar?" It was more a question than an answer. "Maybe?", he asked. "Yeah, well, that are actually the only things I do all day, except for going to school of course, but I really don't know if I like to do that, because I don't have anything else to do. Well, I kind of don't want to do anything else, I guess." Did I really just say that? Hmm... but that was right.

"So you mean, you got ... bored of things you used to do or things that you liked to do?" I had to think about that. At first I was just afraid to do some things – like hanging around my best friends. It was the constant fear that they would notice me being gay. Why was I even afraid of that? They were my friends – they should accept that, or at least try to tolerate it, right? Or it was because of me being in love with my best friend. I don't know ... I just ... don't know.

Mr Rohand looked at me with questioning eyes. "Uhm ... sorry. I ... had to think about that...", I said. "No problem, take your time. Actually it will help you more than me telling you strange hypotheses about why you might have depression." I nodded my head. "So, I think first I was afraid of doing the things I liked, I guess – and I still am." I took a breath. "But today kind of changed my whole situation and ..." I ran my hand through my hair, thinking of what to say. I decided to just start from the beginning. I suddenly didn't care about whom I was talking to or at least not about that he was technically a stranger to me. He was a therapist, right? He was bound to professional discretion, wasn't he?

"Well, I think I have to just tell my whole story and why I think I got depression and anxiety. You're not going to tell my parents, are you?"; I asked worried. "No, of course not. Only you decide what you want to tell your parents. I won't tell anyone, except for when you want me to", he reassured me. "Okay", I took a deep breath, "it all started with getting those dreams. About me and my best friend kissing. First I was confused. Then I found out I liked those dreams. And then I found out that it would never happen in reality, and that I'd probably get judged if I came out as being gay. So I distanced myself from everyone, and got kind of anti-social. I had to think about it all the time. I forgot to eat – and I wasn't hungry – I just ate when my mum kind of forced me to. I ... I started to live in my own world." I didn't know how to go on. Actually that was my story. In abridgement.

He nodded in understanding. "Hmm... And I guess the boy was your best friend, right?" I nodded, blushing. "And he told you that he has the same feelings for you?" "Yes. But I know this can't just make the depression go away, but I believe he can and will help me through it." Mr Rohand smiled. "Nevertheless I want you to take some medication – only if you fully agree. It would be worth a try. What do you think?" I slowly nodded my head. "And I would like you to go to a therapist once a week." "Can't I just do it with you?"; I asked – I kind of liked him. "This is indeed possible, but you'd have to come to the hospital, because I solely work here." "That is no problem – I hope", I added. "With the next meal you will get your medication and I'll write you a prescription for it. You take one pill in the morning. And you should eat something before or after."