Therapy Sessions

Session 1

“So you work at a bookshop, if I remember correctly? It sounds like a nice job.”

“Yes, I guess. I don’t have a lot of responsibilities. I open and close according to schedule. I organize the shelves and I sell books. That’s pretty much it. I like that. And it’s quiet. Most customers just browse. Sometimes they ask me if I have read something. I’ll often say it’s good, even if I haven’t opened it.”

“But surely you must like books?”

“I used to. As a kid, I loved them. I thought maybe working around books would bring it back. It didn’t.”

“I see. And what does your usual day off look like?”

“I stay home and I scroll or watch random shows. I snack until my partner gets back, because I’m usually too lazy to cook myself lunch. My partner is the one who cooks dinner. He also feeds our pets. I go over to the table when it’s ready. We’ll watch something on the TV. Then we go to bed. Usually past midnight. Sometimes I cry in his arms.”

“Do you cry often?”

“Hmm… I don’t know. I guess so.”

“Well, I want to go back to what we discussed last session. The screening forms. You scored high for both depression and anxiety. So I think you might have depression. I think that would explain why you feel dull, numb and joyless.”

“Okay.”

“Do you know, perhaps, what could be missing from your life? What would it take to make you experience happiness?”

“Well… No, not really. I would not be here if I knew.”

“Fair enough. That makes sense. Well, we should dig deeper into that then. But based on what you have shared, I think this might have started a long time ago. Possibly in childhood. Would you be comfortable talking about it next time?”

“Why are therapists so obsessed with talking about childhood? It’s never helped before.”

“I understand it hasn’t felt helpful before, but it’s important. Childhood experiences often shape how we respond now. Let’s come back to it next time.”

Session 2

“Good afternoon. I am sorry for the wait. A woman called in on the intercom. She needed me to open the door because her elderly mother was not answering.”

“No worries.”

“It happens very often. The elderly woman refuses to go to a retirement home. I know because her daughter told me. She tends to overshare when she sees I am the one answering the door. And the police are often involved because she keeps having accidents, too.”

“Oh. That sounds… complicated.”

“Yes. But she’s hoping that her daughter will let her live with her.”

“But not every child can or wants to take care of their elderly parents…”

“Yes. Taking care of their parents should never have to be a child’s burden. My mother took in her elderly mother. I remember living with her for a few years. That led to great conflict between my mother and father.”

“Uhm — I see.”

“Anyway… Since we are on the topic of parents… Would you mind sharing a difficult or traumatic memory about your parents?”

“A difficult memory about my parents? Hmm… I honestly do not have a lot of memories. I mostly remember the general atmosphere at my household. My parents have always struggled with depression, I think. I practically raised myself. Sorry, I just… I’d need a little time to think it over.”

“Take your time.”

“There’s this one memory that comes to mind… The first time my father threatened to commit suicide after a fight with my mother. I think I was around seven or eight years old.”

“And how did that make you feel? When your father did that?”

“Well, now that I am an adult, I feel—”

“No, I meant how did that make you feel when you were a little girl. How did ‘little-girl-you’ feel?”

“I think… I think she felt sad and scared. Scared at the thought that her father could die. Sad that it would make her mother’s life harder.”

“That’s a lot for a child to carry. I’m sorry you went through that.”

“I quickly learned to recognize his manipulative threats, so I felt ashamed to have believed him and cried for him. I did not know better.”

“But that is how you see it now. It is good that you try to reconnect with how you felt then. That is what we are trying to do. I know you said that you thought it was your personality, that you were not a passionate and enthusiastic person, that there had always been a certain sadness in you. I know you said that happiness was not for you, that the most you hoped for was contentment. But I think you have learned to suppress your emotions because it was the only way for the little girl you were to survive. This is a defence mechanism, and it is not enough to know that it is one to move past it. It is even harder for someone who has only ever used it to learn how to live without it.”

“Okay, then how do I do it? How do I unlearn it? I know all these things, or at least I think I know them. I was always very aware of that. I just accepted that it would never change and that was simply how I was. I don’t know how I feel about all of this. It just feels weird to think of myself as a little girl. I’m an adult now…”

“It’s normal to feel conflicted when you start questioning something you’ve accepted for so long. You’re right — you are an adult now, but those parts of your past still shape how you feel. And it’s okay to feel weird about this. It’s a process, and I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

“Okay.”

“Did you feel like your parents did not love you?”

“No, I don’t think they did not or do not love me. I just think they were bad parents.”

“Most times, neglectful parents are not neglectful because they don’t love their children. Love in itself is simply not enough.”

“Right. I remember a phrase from A Thousand Splendid Suns about how mothers’ wombs bleed and stretch to make room for their children and I think that my mother’s womb stopped making room for me too early. I know that her life was not easy and that she had her own wounds, but I’m also wounded.”

“I hear you. It’s okay to think that you deserved better then. And it’s okay to think that you also deserve better now.”

Session 3

“I feel tired all the time. I have no energy. I want to do things more than I actually want to do them, if that makes sense. I’m not sure how to say this, but… I want to want to live but I don’t really want to live. I don’t really want to live but I also don’t really want to die. Sometimes, I fear that people will think I’m just a lazy person. Or that I’m exaggerating. Because surely life cannot be that hard for everyone, right? So it must be me. Maybe I do lack motivation, maybe I’m just too sensitive, maybe…”

“Go on. This is a safe place for you to share what you truly feel. You don’t have to hide anything here.”

“Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m faking it for attention. Maybe I just need to try harder and stop being so lazy.”

“I’m sorry that you feel that way. Depression is a real and serious mental disorder. It’s also a common condition. You are not alone in this. And you are not being lazy or too sensitive. You are ill. How does that make you feel? I know it’s hard.”

“It’s just… Nothing brings me joy. I am aware of the little pleasures that life brings me, I do not deny or reject them. But… they do not bring me true joy. I am in a good relationship and I love my pets and consider them my world, but even that does not bring me happiness. Sometimes I’m scared that it will always be like this and sometimes I tell myself I shouldn’t be comparing how I feel to how people feel. Perhaps I feel differently. But I’m also not special or unique, so I guess other people feel similarly. And I think you’re right. It makes it easier to think that I am not completely alienated. But all in all… I feel like I just exist… and that is it.”

“But does it have to be ‘it’? Is there nothing you can do?”

“I… I don’t know. I want to know. I hope there is more to life than this. I hope there is something that can be done. But if there is nothing that can be done, then it is okay, too. My life will keep going and perhaps it will get better along the way. Or maybe not. But I’m trying. I’m trying to get better. I’m trying to meet more people even if most of them do not become friends because at some point it might work out. I’m trying to change my bad habits even if I fail because at some point it might cease to fail. I’m trying to go out of my comfort zone even when all I want is to be comfortable. I’m doing what I can. Maybe it will get better. At this point, the only thing I know is that I am not giving up.”

“It’s great that you are trying. I can see you are doing your best. What is the next step you would like to take? It does not have to be something big. It can be something small.”

“I think… I think I would like to grab a new book. Maybe working in a bookshop is a chance after all. I suppose I can choose to see it that way. Maybe there’s a reason I was drawn to this job, even though I thought I would never come to appreciate books again. Yes… I think I will start there.”

“Well, that sounds like a good start.”

“Tonight, I will make dinner and I will cuddle with my pets. I will watch one of those movies I have always wanted to see but never had the energy to concentrate on. I will probably still fall asleep past midnight, though. I guess some things do not have to change. And I don’t think I will cry — wait, isn’t the sun’s glow surprisingly soothing today? I hadn’t noticed. The oak tree across the street looks like it’s shining… Yes, I will start there. Tomorrow, I will carefully pick a new book at work.”

“While these first steps are important, it is essential to understand that healing often requires time and persistence. It won’t be easy, but I will be here to support you throughout the process.”

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