“Not what you expected?” she asked me.
I shook my head. “The last time I saw a therapist, my parents thought they could fix me,” I muttered. A chill raced down my spine at the thought of it. I hadn’t been one hundred percent honest with Langston.
They’d tried to convert me back to being straight, as if it was just a matter of hitting a switch in my brain.
“Therapy never fixes anyone,” she told me gently. I frowned. Then why did Langston bring me here? “Therapists are just here to guide you, give you a non-judgemental ear to vent to, or sometimes just a quiet place to think. But any fixing—that happens on your own, Cove.” She leaned back in her chair and pulled her legs up, crossing them. “Why did your parents want to fix you, Cove?”
I nervously licked my lips and rubbed my sweaty palms on my jeans. “Because I’m gay.” I’d never hidden from my sexuality, and I wouldn’t start now.
She sighed. “Want to know something about me, Cove?” I looked up at her. She grabbed her phone and opened it, showing me her background. It was her with another woman, and they looked madly in love. “I’m a lesbian. My parents tried to fix me, too.” She winked at me. “Guess what? There’s nothing wrong with people like us, Cove.”
I relaxed. She knew. She understood.
Tears welled in my eyes. “Then can you help me?” I croaked. A tear ran down my cheek. “Because I want to hurt myself, and I promised Langston I wouldn’t.”
She nodded. “I can help you, Cove. You’re going to be okay. Let’s start with that. Close your eyes for me, and then I want you to whisper to yourself over and over that you’re going to be okay.”
And so, I closed my eyes, following her instructions. Silent tears began to slide down my cheeks after saying it for the fifth time. I slowly opened my glassy eyes, looking up at her. “Why did you make me do that?” I croaked, sniffling and swiping at my cheeks.
“Because the more we say positive things to ourselves, the more we begin to believe them.” She tapped her temple. “It’s all about our mindset, Cove. We’ll get you started on medication today, and we’ll work on some coping mechanisms. Does that sound like a good plan?”
I nodded. Was it possible I’d be able to live without being upset I woke up each morning? Only time would tell, but for once, I wanted to live.
I wanted to live for Langston.
Chapter Five
Cove
Dear Diary,
* * *
I’m not sure what to write here. I’ve never had to do something like this before, but my therapist thinks this will help me. I sort of don’t want to write in you since Langston bought you, and you’re so gorgeous, but I know I need to do this.
* * *
I’m really hoping this helps.
* * *
Today marks one month since I’ve started therapy. Langston has been so supportive, and even when we’re apart because he’s in class or one of us is at work, he’s constantly checking in on me and texting me when he can’t call. I wasn’t sure what I was jumping into with him when he came banging on my door that night a month ago, but I’m so glad now that I opened the door to him.
* * *
I believe him when he says he’s not going anywhere. It hadn’t been easy to believe that at first, but now, I know Langston is the one person in this world I can trust. He’s changed so much from high school, and despite our shaky, troubled past together, I’m so glad to have him in my life now.
* * *
He makes the dawn of a new day easier to bear.
* * *
It’s still a struggle to get out of bed some days, but my therapist has faith that things will get better once we figure out a medication combination that will help my anxiety and my depression.
* * *
We talked about my parents today. I had a panic attack in her office, but she helped me breathe through it using one of the grounding techniques she taught me. It was then I realized that I didn’t feel safe when they were brought up. Because my parents were supposed to be a safe space for me, and when I came out to them, home was, in some ways, even worse than school.
