He tilts his head to the side. “You seem very distant today. Do you want to talk about that?”
“Not really.”
“Okay,” he says as he crosses his legs “Then what would you like to talk about?”
Nothing.I don’t want to be here.
I’m in therapy because I’m an alcoholic, and a bleak future is destined for me. I’ve barely been sleeping and letting the voices in my head get louder and louder until they’re all I can hear.
“Has something happened?” he asks softly.
I move to shake my head but stop myself. I raise my eyes, and his expression remains neutral as he watches me for a long moment.
“Guess I’ve just been having some head fog over the past few days,” I confess.
“Do you know what it stemmed from?”
Realising I’ll never be the father I want to be.
I already missed Skye’s birth. I should have been right by Maya’s side. The most important day of our lives, and I wasn’t fucking there.
A curse word falls from my lips, and I can’t stop fidgeting. There’s an itch beneath my skin that I cannot reach, a voice in the back of my head telling me what I should do to numb the pain.
“Finn,” Samuel says as he leans forward. “I know this is difficult, but we can work through this together. You’re not alone.”
“But I am,” I bite back. “I am alone. You’re not the one with the alcohol problem. You’re not the one who blacked out when your girlfriend told you she was pregnant. You’re not the one who told her that I didn’t want our daughter.”
My eyes start to burn at the memories, but my tears are pathetic when Maya was the one I upset. I did this.I did this.
“And these are things we’ve gone through together,” Samuel responds calmly. “Do you remember what we said to do when these thoughts come back?”
My face scrunches up, and I wave a hand frustratedly. “But they’re always going to come back. No matter how hard I try. So what’s the point? I’m going to end up disappointing them in the end anyway."
“No,” Samuel says firmly. “You’re not. You’re going through a journey that might not be linear, but you’re here, and I know you know that means something.”
I bite down on my jaw and roll my finger over my temple. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“What do you mean?”
“In the first place. How could I hate myself that much? It just proves who I am.”
“No. People can change, and that doesn’t represent who you are. Just because you’ve struggled with alcoholism doesn’t meanit’s your life forever, Finn. We make choices to better ourselves, the ones we love, and the future you’ll have without alcohol.”
“But it’s in my veins,” I bite. “I can feel it now. The desperation to just knock back a drink to get these thoughts to go away. It’s so confusing because it’ll be a thousand steps backwards, but at the same time, it will stop that feeling that I’m fucking drowning.”
Samuel blinks at me a couple of times before nodding. “Okay,” he says. “Finn, if you feel like you might be encouraged to do that after our session, then I highly suggest you either go to a meeting, or you tell your friends, your family, or your girlfriend that you’re struggling and you need the support.”
A cold laugh echoes from me. “And tell them that I’m falling apart again? For them to look at me differently and see that I’ve made no progress at all.”
“You’re not falling apart. I know how much your friends and family care about you from what you’ve told me, and all they’ll want is to support you. You’re having a small blip that can be helped with extra support. I can give you some numbers to call if you’re feeling isolated.”
My head lowers, and I stand, panic starting to rise in me.
“I-I can’t do this.”
“Finn—” Samuel calls out. “Please, let’s just talk. Okay? We can change the subject.”
I swipe a hand over my face. “I need to go.”
