God, I was so stupid.
“You’re not stupid, Harvey.”
Had I said that out loud?
“You know how to handle these emotions, proving repeatedly that you can. I’ve given you all the tools to do that.”
I fidgeted with the pen on the desk.
Click. Click. Click.
With most of the men I was attracted to, I could easily control the urges. Years of therapy, years of talking to Julie and thosethat came before her had helped me cope with the desire to punish myself.
“I think that’s the most I’ve heard you say in a while,” Julie said. “It sounds like he made an impression on you, and I know this might seem like a step backwards, but it really isn’t. You’ve worked hard to get where you are, and the fact that you didn’t cut yourself more is a testament to that.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologise to me. You should be very proud of yourself. I know I am. Do you want to see him again?”
Did I? Part of me was yelling yes. The other, more cautious part of me was saying no, that it could only lead to something more. But why shouldn’t I listen to the yes? It was louder. Perhaps it really was time to step out of my comfort zone.
“I’m not sure. I’m scared of what will happen if I do.”
“I understand that, but playing devil’s advocate here, what if it’s good?”
“How will I know? Because that means, you know, putting myself out there. I’ve never done that before.”
“You won’t know until you try. Baby steps, though. Give it a go. You might surprise yourself.”
“Maybe. I’ll see how I feel.”
“Harvey, we’re coming to the end of our time together. I would love to talk more about him and his effect on you. We’ll pick it up next time. But how about you do something nice? Is there something small you can do at the end of our session? Concentrate on yourself. Can you do that for me, Harvey?”
I nodded. There was a movie I wanted to see. I could do that and told her so.
“I think that’s a great idea. Be kind to yourself, Harvey. You’re doing so well since I first spoke to you. So much progress. Your emotions aren’t shameful. Remember that.”
“I have been better,” I said. “This is the first slip-up I’ve had in a while.”
“It has, and you’ve shown that you can do it. That you’re in control.”
An idea flitted through my mind. A new tattoo, maybe. That always helped. No one saw the myriad of colours that covered my body. Tattoos ranged from a single word to an armful of art. It eased my mind when things became difficult.
“I have an idea,” I said, brightening a little.
“New ink?” She smiled. She knew me far too well.
I nodded. “Yes. Something simple, but meaningful.” The words of Killian’s song sprang to mind, and I knew it was the right thing.
“They usually are. I’m pleased for you. See? Even in this session, you’ve made progress. You can show me when it’s done.”
“I will.” I smiled, and this time, I meant it. The weight on my shoulders lifted, leaving me more content than I had been since last night.
We agreed to meet at the same time next week, and I promised to do something for myself and not dwell on last night’s events.
Easier said than done. Mum and Dad would turn in their graves if they knew what had happened to me since they’d died. First Dad, then Mum, and then Grandma thrown in for good measure. I’d lost all the influential people in my life in a short space of time. Who wouldn’t struggle?
But most of all was the overwhelming shame. Grandma had understood, but since her passing, I’d had no one to talk to. No one to tell me that what I felt was natural, that I wasn’t broken. I’d contemplated taking my life, but ultimately, I was too much of a fucking coward.