Dr Lawrence is sitting in her black leather chair as I enter her office. Her notepad in hand, it appears that she's very ready to start this session. I'm not, not at all. She wants me to talk to her about my past. Even though it's one of the reasons why I even started going to therapy in the first place I'm still not wanting to dive deeply into it. My experiences have always just been my own, there has been very little that has been shared with other people. So to have a stranger to listen to my experiences and begin to dissect them is kind of a scary concept for me. But I know it has to be done.

"Good morning Elena, lovely to see you again" She greets me warmly as I place my backpack on the floor beside me and place my phone onto silent mode.

"You too" I reply. She starts to write stuff down already, oh god have I already said something wrong?

"So where were we last time" She mutters to herself as she flicks through a couple of pages of notes. "Ah, we were going to talk a little bit about your childhood is that right?" She directs her attention back up to me. I mean, she has the notes, surely she remembers?

"Yeah that's right" I nod and place my hands on my lap.

"So let's just jump right in. What were your early years like?" Her pen is poised and ready in her hand.

"Well they were okay at first; it was just my mum and my dad and me. We didn't have a lot of money so that was always a struggle but we made it through. Eventually, my dad lost his job when I was 5 and my mum was a stay-at-home mum so we had to live out of our car for a while" I begin to speak quite timidly. I remember telling this story to Harry, well to everyone at the table during the first charity dinner he took me to. It seems like a million years ago now.

"And how long did that last?"

"Around six months I think, it felt like a lot longer than it probably was" I attempt to shrug it off. She presses her lips together before writing some more things down and gesturing for me to continue.

"He got another job and we found a place to live again. And things were mostly smooth sailing until I was 12. I came home from school one day and my dad was just gone. He disappeared and I haven't seen him since" She pauses her writing at this point and tilts her head to the side.

"Your father is a missing person?" She asks with slight intrigue.

"Oh! No, he just took off and left" I explain. It would be a lot cooler if he went missing for some kind of reason; like he was taken or he was fleeing from something bad. When really the dirtbag got tired of being a dad and a husband I presume.

"That must have been difficult" It sounds like a statement, but I know it's probably more of a question. I nod my head.

"Yeah, it was. We were quite close. And even though we didn't have a lot we always said that we had each other, and that was enough" I bite down on my bottom lip, which has begun to quiver. "He has sent a couple of birthday cards, maybe four in total, but apart from that I haven't heard from him in years" I shrug again, lightly picking at the skin surrounding my nail bed.

"How did your mum feel about it?" She asks innocently. I take a big deep breath.

"It was really the beginning of the end for her. She quickly got a job to be able to look after us both and had to adjust to being a single mum. She cried a lot, I heard her cry all the time. She seriously loved him, and him leaving just completely crushed her soul. It wasn't long until she started to show signs of mental illness. Her first diagnosis was manic depression but eventually, she had what the doctors at the time called a psychotic break and was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and schizophrenia" I take another deep breath and wait for Dr Lawrence to catch up with her note taking

"Were you there when she had her 'psychotic break'?" She asks using air quotation marks. I nod my head. "What did you see?" I scratch at my nail beds a little bit more before I answer.

"I was 15 when it all started to go down-hill. She wasn't really able to look after herself or work so we got some government assistance and I got a couple of part-time jobs after school and on weekends. I knew if she was committed or taken away somewhere that I would probably go into foster care, so I thought I could handle looking after her on my own. My aunt would try and help sometimes but she had her own life and a family of her own to worry about. We got by for a while but eventually it became clear that I needed help. One time I walked home from school and she had managed to get up to the roof and was threatening to jump off of it. And then a little while after that I had to take her to a doctors appointment and while I was driving, she tried to jump out of the car on the motorway" I can feel my voice getting quieter and my throat getting tighter. Dr Lawrence has a killer poker face, yet her pen is scribbling like mad across the page. I'm sure we will be deep diving into each of those scenarios later. Can't wait for that.

"That must have been very difficult for you" She nods her head sympathetically. I try to avoid eye contact with her, I feel like I might cry and I don't want to break down anymore. Or at least I want to hold out for as long as I can. When I don't say anything more she continues with her questioning.

"Where is your mum now?"

"Well after the car incident it became clear that she needed more help than I could give her. I kept fearing that one day I would come home and she..." I can't finish the statement. I shrug my shoulders and shake my head, she knows what I mean. I used to have nightmares about it all the time. When I'm stressed I dream I'm driving down a never ending highway and my mum is frantically clawing at the door handle and the window screaming obscenities about how much she hates me.

I've trailed off. Dr Lawrence doesn't seem to mind, so I just continue to talk after I collect my thoughts.

"So her doctor helped me get her admitted into a facility. She's there now and we think she finally has a nice balance of medication and therapy." I manage a smile. My mum is alive and for the most part, she is well again. Not a lot of other people can say the same.

"Do you see her often?"

"Well I try to. It's quite a ways outside of London and with school and work it's hard to find the time. I call her on the phone too" Even I'm not totally convinced by my answer. This is where my guilt comes rushing up to the surface.

"Is that the only reason?" She asks, as though she is in my head and reading my thoughts.

"Sometimes a part of me just doesn't want to deal with it. Not that I don't love her to pieces. I'm her daughter, of course I want to see her and know that she's doing well. It's just, it's hard to explain" I shrug.

"Try me" Dr Lawrence says with a coy smile. That is kind of why I'm here after all, I do have to help her sort through the shit inside my head.

"It's just, sometimes when she talks so openly about how much fun her and her friends at the facility have had at game night or movie night, it makes me upset. I couldn't do those kinds of things as a teenager because I was basically her full time carer while trying to succeed in school. I missed out on a lot, I didn't really get to have fun as a teenager" The words tumble from my mouth and the guilt rises in my stomach like acid reflux.

"But of course I want her to be happy! If she's talking about having fun that means that she's being looked after and that she's looking after herself. That's all that I want really" I quickly add on. Dr Lawrence nods along, making a few notes.

"Do you think that maybe, you aren't visiting her a lot because you may be holding onto some anger?" Dr Lawrence suggests, and I'm quite taken aback by it. I raise my eyebrows and readjusts my body in my seat before I respond.

"I'm not angry at my mum, she wasn't well and she needed help. I'm upset with her a tiny bit not very often, I'm not angry" I trail off towards the end of the sentence. Am I mad at my mum?

"Of course. I'm not saying you don't love and care about your mother very much. You showed her a great deal of love and support at such a young age, taking on a role that you certainly shouldn't have had to do. I'm merely suggesting that maybe the way your relationship was in the past has affected the way that it is now" My body slumps back in the chair as I ponder what she has said.

"Do you two talk about those times, at all?" I shake my head.

"Never. It's like they never existed to her. She doesn't want to talk about my dad either. She only likes to talk about the present and the future"

"Have you expressed to her that you need to speak about these things with her? About how they made you feel, about how they affected you?" Her point is very valid in a sense, but my body rejects it completely.

"I can't complain to her about how she messed up my childhood, because if I did it could drive her off the edge again. I only recently feel like she's the mum that I know before this all happened. I can't cause her pain like that" I explain quietly.

"Would you ever consider trying to talk to her about those times? If your mum is finally in a good place, she may want to talk through what happened with you. She could be tiptoeing around you as much as you are around her?" Her pen rests in between her pointer and middle finger as she waits for me to think through her words.

"Maybe" I shrug. I would really like to open up to my mum. I always fear burdening her with my problems when she has had so many of her own. Dr Lawrence nods with a small smile and writes a few words down. Man I would kill to find out what she has written down about me on that slip of paper.

"I do briefly want to circle back to your father if you don't mind" She continues when I nod my head in approval. From one terrible subject to another, therapy rocks. "Do you think not having a fatherly figure in your later years affected you in any way?"

It's quite a loaded question, and I have about a million different small answers that can be used as an answer. I wasn't able to attend the father daughter dances that the other girls went to. My dad wasn't around to scare off my male school friends who he thought might be interested in me. I didn't learn how to drive with my dad. He couldn't help me with mum. He couldn't save me from a lot of what happened. A lot would be different if he never left.

"I think so. I was really close to my dad. And when he left it sort of messed me up inside. I didn't want to trust people and let them in. I didn't want to be myself around anyone, because they might leave like he did. He walked away so easily, like we were nothing. It scares me that it could happen again one day"

"I can't help but see the parallels here" I give her a somewhat confused look before she presses on. "Your father left you and your mother out of nowhere, without an explanation. And you've just ended a relationship that you cared very deeply about in a similar way"

I quickly cut in. "But it was a tough decision for me, and it wasn't his fault. I knew that one day I was going to hurt him and so I left him to save him the trouble and pain"

"Perhaps your father thought the same thing" Dr Lawrence replies calmly without skipping a beat. I let her words wash over me as my eyes begin to sting.

"From what I see, you had two people who you loved and cared for so very much. One of them left, and one of them became unwell. Neither of those things happened because of you. None of this is your fault, and yet it fell to you to look after not only yourself but also your mother. You are a good person Elena, a good person who deserves to be loved and cared for"

"I don't think I'm a good person" I practically whisper. Her poker face breaks and a wave of sadness and empathy washes over her expression. And it breaks me. I begin to sob into my hands. If I'm such a great person then why did my dad leave? Why did my mum get so sick? Why could I not help her? And why has she never acknowledged what I went through alongside her?

I feel the couch dip down next to me as a hand begins to rub my shoulder. I try to keep the noise as quiet as I can, but there's only so much I can do. Eventually, I pull my hands away to pick up a tissue from the box in front of me and start to pat my face dry. The tears are still falling.

"You gave up your formative years to look after your mother, and you asked for nothing in return. You are a good person Elena" She says soothingly, continuing to rub her hand along my shoulder blade.

"It's okay to be upset or frustrated. From the sounds of it, you've been taking care of other people your whole life, and there hasn't been anyone to care for you. Well, things are different now. Now you need to be looked after, you need to be cared for. That's where our focus is going to be. You need to care about you, and look after you. Because you deserve it"

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I've been so spaced out for this entire lecture. Definitely a mistake to plan a therapy session at the beginning of the day, especially when I have plans for the rest of the day and can't just crawl into bed and sleep for 12 hours. I feel so emotionally and physically drained from the session.

"Good work today everyone! See you next week!" The lecturer shouts to us over the sound of students loading up their bags and eagerly escaping the lecture hall. I try to move a little faster than I usually do, I have a shift at the bookstore straight after this lecture and I really hate being late. I'm also far too polite, so I get stuck behind a wave of people who I've allowed to cut in front of me.

I called my mum after my therapy session and made plans to take the train up to see her this weekend. It's times like this when I really miss my little car. I didn't have the heart to take it when I left, so I'm back to the bus, the train and mooching rides off of Heather when I can. Unfortunately, it looks like I'll be taking the train so that's a 4 am wake up call to look forward to.

I'm not sure exactly if I will take Dr Lawrence's advice and talk with my mum about my past, but I also have to figure out if I will talk to her about what's happened between Harry and I. Obviously if I tell her the whole truth then she will no doubt feel guilty, but then I'm a bad liar so I can't pretend that I'm still blissfully in love.

"Hi sweetie" My Boss Alice greets me when I finally arrive at the bookstore. She's standing at the front desk sorting out the confectionary. I missed her when I didn't work here, I'm so glad I came back.

"Hey" I reply quickly as I walk behind the counter into the break room to stow my backpack away. I drop my bag into my cubby when I see a boy sitting at the small table by the microwave. I've never seen him before.

"Are you new here?" I blurt out, somewhat flustered by his presence. He raises his head from his phone to look at me, before giving me a smile and standing up with his hand outstretched.

"Yeah. First day. I'm Luke" His voice is low and thick, definitely not from London. I shake his hand.

"I'm Elena. Are you Irish?" I ask. His smile grows wider as he responds.

"Yes I am, I moved to London two years ago but the accent is still stuck with me" I nod my head politely as he responds. His eyes are incredibly bright blue in this lighting, he quite an attractive guy. Tall too, at least six foot.

"Oh good you two have met. Elena could you walk Luke through how things go around here?" Alice breezes into the room on her way to her office.

"Sure thing" I call out to her in response, watching her dash madly down the hallway. Luke stifles a laugh as he watched her go before he turns his head back to me.

"Lead the way boss" He gestured towards the doorway, leading back out into the bookstore. I manage a smile as I file back into the store.