“I don’t blame him,” I say, wrecked. “I don’t. I know he couldn’t help what he was going through, but I wish he hadn't give up.” I look at Maria, needing to know if I’m off base. “Is that what he did? Give up?”
“You know Hudson is also a client, so I can’t divulge anything that pertains to him. But I can say that mental health issues can be incredibly consuming. Some people find ways to keep functioning despite that weight. Others become so exhausted that their thinking narrows and they come to believe that there are no other feasible options left. That isn’t giving up. It’s fatigue—emotional, cognitive, and physical. When someone’s that exhausted, their world gets very small.”
Maria hands me some tissues from the box on the coffee table that sits between us and eases back in her chair to assess me for a moment. “You can understand all of this intellectually and still be furious. You are allowed to have a response to what happened. The concern is when that anger begins to take control of you.”
I blow out a breath, already mentally strung out and just wanting this day to end.
“When your anger shows up, what is it usually in response to?”
I wipe my eyes with the tissue, my heart heavy. It always comes back to one thing.
“Hudson.”
“Hudson as a person? Or Hudson in that moment?”
Fuck I didn’t think therapy would be this intense. I don’t want to talk about it, but I know I’m not escaping without baring my soul.
“Hudson in that moment. Never Hudson himself. He’s amazing. He’s—.”
He’s perfect.
A small smile curls my lips.
“Tell me about your relationship with Hudson before you became a couple.”
Okay, this I can talk about. This feels like safe territory.
Allowing myself to relax a little, I start where it all began. “Hud has been my best friend from the moment he asked me if I wanted to sit with him on the first day of school in fourth grade.”
I remember that day so clearly. It wasn’t just the first day of school, but my first day in general. I was the new kid, and I was nervous.
“Hud took one look at me and didn’t hesitate to invite me into his group of friends.”
Maria folds her hands over her notepad. “How did your relationship progress from there?”
“Um… we were inseparable, I guess. If I wasn’t at his house, he was at mine. Or we were at the riv—” I stop. The last thing I’m going to do is talk about that place.
“Or you were where?”
My teeth tug on my bottom lip, finding a piece of skin to chew on. My eyes dart to the window again, my vision fuzzy with a memory I’ve tried so hard to forget.
“We can circle back to that. It seems to be something that has meaning to you.”
My jaw tenses.
Fuck that place.
Maria studies me for a moment. “How would you describe your role in the friendship?”
My eyes snap back to her, my brow scrunched. “What do you mean?”
“Well, usually within any form of relationship—whether it be friendly, familial, or romantic—there are dynamics that each person takes on. Some people are the life of the party, while others are the caregiver, or even the sensible one.”
“That makes sense, I guess,” I mumble.
“Then what would you say was your role?”
“I don’t really know. What does this have to do with anything?” My knee is back to bouncing, the sound of splashing water and flashing lights filling my mind. I grasp the neck of my t-shirt and fan myself, a bead of sweat tracking down my temple.
