"How did he react when things ended?" she asks.
"I'm not sure," I shrug. I swallow the lump that has formed in my throat before I clarify my response. "We had a fight. He went out of town on a business trip, and I packed up all of my things and left him a note." Saying it out loud makes me want to burst into tears, and so I do. How the fuck could I do that to him? What is wrong with me? I couldn't even sit him down and explain to him what I was feeling and why I was feeling it. I'm an awful person.
"It's alright, here," Dr. Lawrence attempts to calm me down as I quietly sob into my hands, pushing the tissue box closer towards me. I pull out a couple of tissues and use them to wipe my cheeks. I can't believe I'm just openly sobbing to this stranger about my love life. I work to get my breathing under control; in and out, in and out. I've done it now, I can't take it back or change it. I've done what I've done, and all I can do is hope that he understands why. She gives me a minute to calm down before she asks me some more questions.
"What did you tell him was the reason why you left?" Her tone is quiet as she watches me intently. I ball up the used tissues in my hand and tuck some hair behind my ear, keeping the focus on my fingernails as I speak.
"I told him the truth. That I loved him, and that I cared about him and that he did nothing wrong. I said that I needed some time to figure out the stuff that's happening with me because if I don't fix it now, then it will just mess me up for the rest of my life." I paraphrase the letter that I left for him on the kitchen counter before I left our apartment.
"And what things do you need to figure out for you?" she presses next for more details. I shrug my shoulders, feeling another wave of tears coming.
"My upbringing wasn't the best. I've been through some bad shit, and I never really talked about it or got any help for it. And I know that one day it's all going to become too much, and I'm going to explode and destroy everything and everyone around me. And I can't do that to him, he shouldn't have to deal with that," I mumble my response, urgently swallowing the lump in my throat that refuses to leave and blinking my eyes to hold back the tears.
"So, you feel like your past could potentially get in the way of your future?" I nod. "Are you prepared to talk about your past with me?" I pause before I answer. I barely talk about my past with anyone. I told Rhode all that I had to tell him about my mum's illness and my dad leaving, but there is so much more to it. There are so many things that happened that continue to haunt me, images that I can't get out of my head that keep me up at night sometimes.