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She writes something on her pad again. “Yes, that’s the point of your medication. Have you had any suicidal thoughts since you’ve been out?”
“No.” I glance down at my wrist. “It’s strange. I don’t feel like I want to die, but I also don’t feel excited about living.”
Erica sets down her pen and slides off her glasses. “So then it bears asking: What do you think would make you feel excited about living?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think about it. What makes you happy?”
I heave a sigh and focus on the clouds drifting past the window. “I enjoy running and reading. I like going out to eat and trying different foods. But I don’t have anyone to go with.”
“You’ll make friends in time, but you don’t need anyone to go to a restaurant with. You can sit by yourself and enjoy your own company.” She lifts a finger. “Or you can take a cooking class. You’d probably make some friends there too.”
A cooking class would be interesting. I could learn how to cook something other than frozen pizza.
“You know, Nix. Your father left you a lot of money. He’d want you to spend it on the things that make you happy.”
Other than buying things to maintain the house, I haven’t spent any of it for myself. “I don’t want to spend it. I don’t want anything. I just want my dad back.”
The money doesn’t mean anything without him.
“Not spending it won’t bring him back.”
I drop my chin. “I know.”
“Have you been writing in your journal?”
I chew my bottom lip. “No. But I’ve been reading the affirmations.”
“What’s stopping you from writing?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m just not sure what I should be writing.”
“There are no rules, Nix. You can write whatever you want, whatever comes out in that moment. You can write what you’re feeling, what’s weighing on your mind. Many people find it helpful to write down a few things they’re grateful for, and some positive affirmations of their own.”
I snort. “I can’t write affirmations.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. They’re so… cheesy. What would I even say?”
“An affirmation is a way to praise yourself. Think of the things you appreciate about yourself. The things you’re proud of.”
My thumb rubs idle circles around my scar while I think. “I haven’t done anything to be proud of.”
“According to who?”
I shrug.
“You’re living every day with depression. You overcame a suicide attempt, and you’re working on building a new life in the wake of that. I’d say you have a lot to be proud of. Your strength. Your courage. Just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there.” She points to her chest. “Go to the core of who you are as a person. The things you value. The things you consider to make yourself a good friend, or family member. And it doesn’t have to be cheesy. It doesn’t even have to be something you believe.”
My eyebrows press together. “Why would I praise myself for something I don’t believe to be true?”
“Because everyone has to start somewhere. You’ve been working on self-love, and self-worth, so you’re not going to have a list of things you love about yourself right off the bat. But the idea is to practice saying it until it becomes the truth. Force a new pathway of thought patterns. Take control of what you think by feeding your mind positive thoughts.” She shrugs. “Eventually, you’ll start to believe it.”
I laugh. “You’re telling me to fake it until I make it?”
“Exactly.”
