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#address me it'll make you realise I'm bad. somehow
running-in-the-dark · 2 years
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I just wrote all of this in the tags because I feel like my thoughts don't matter and I shouldn't make anyone read them but no, I'll write it in a post instead.
I just had a really fun realisation (that was sarcasm)
it doesn't matter what name I go by - as soon as I start associating a name with myself/identifying with it, it feels gross.
I thought it was because I associate my real name with mainly negative memories (and also because of gender stuff)
but no. even when it's something that only my friends call me, something that's only been used in a positive context. even when it's something silly like a username or tumblr url. as soon as it starts feeling like 'me' it's bad.
if I hear or read or think about any of those names/usernames, I feel nauseous. I feel afraid. I feel disgusting. the name doesn't matter because *I* am disgusting and bad.
so that's great. and I don't know what to do about it. guess I should write this down for my psychiatrist appointment (because if I don't I will forget but the problem won't go away)
no name no pronouns please pretend I do not exist 🙃
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hollanderfangirl · 3 years
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Let me go |Harry Holland|
Pairing: Harry Holland x Therapist! Reader
A/N: so I'm not a therapist and I've never been to therapy, well if you don't consider the sessions with my psychology teacher. All of what I've written comes from what I've learnt in psychology class, reading books and listening to other people's experiences.
Warnings: talk about death, panic attack and it's just really sad
Word count: 3.3k, this is my longest fic yet :)
(Sorry for the shitty moodboard I just had to post this fic or I would have lost my mind)
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Harry Holland walked through the halls of the clinic, not really sure why he was here. Well he knew why he had come to see a therapist but he wondered how he put himself in this situation. He had been locking himself inside a glass cave built out of hopelessness for months, his friends and family were greatly concerned about him but he refused to take any help. He had always been stubborn, he never asked for anybody's help. He hated the look of pity on people's faces. He hated people showing him sympathy. He was more than this. He didn't need anybody. He can pull himself together, he just needed time.
But it wasn't helping. Burying your feelings in has never helped anybody. Putting on a smile everyday in front of people and crying himself to sleep, Harry found it more and more difficult. His mum had sensed it and told him to go and see a doctor. He had resisted it at first. 
"Please do it for me, Harry. I cannot see you like this, at least for my satisfaction," Nikki had said. "Just go for a trial session and if you like it then you can continue," but of course he wasn't going to continue. 
Now as he stood in front of the receptionist, he was reconsidering his decision. 
"Yes, do you have an appointment, sir?" 
"Huh?" he seemed lost. "Yeah..yeah" 
"Just wait here, I'll inform Dr Y/l/n" 
"Your know what, cancel the appointment. I- I don't need help" 
"Oh but this is just a trial, Mr Holland" 
"Yeah but I don't-" the receptionist was already at the door, muttering something to the woman inside. 
You step outside to see a curly headed man, he looked pleasant but his eyes looked sad. Those were the eyes of a person who had seen immense grief, someone who had been miserable for a long long time. 
"I'm sorry but I don't need therapy… I didn't realise this before, I -I shouldn't have come here" 
"Oh Mr Holland, this is just a trial right? Let's just have some coffee. This isn't therapy yet" you smile at him. 
"No I really-" 
"Okay then, give me half an hour. If you still feel the same way, then you can leave. Half an hour is all I want from you, Mr Holland" 
"Alright" 
You lead him into your chamber, closing the door behind you. He sits down on a couch across from you, your desk separating you both. The first step of therapy- resistance. People always resist therapy at first, they feel like they don't need the help or maybe seeking help makes them weak. They don't feel like opening up to a complete stranger. How can they? How can they open up their most vulnerable state to a person who they barely know? But slowly and steadily, a rapport is made. A therapist has to be very careful and empathetic. They have to be trusting. Someone who people can turn to. Someone who they can relate to. Someone who understands them. Someone who would just listen. 
"So, your mother sent you here. Right, Mr Holland?" 
"Just- just call me Harry" 
"Okay then Harry, tell me" 
"What do you want me to tell you?" 
"Everything. Start from the beginning" 
"Well I- do you… do you really think I would-" he hesitates. "Who do you think you are? Why do you think I should pay you to listen to my goddamn life story here?" 
"You're not here to tell me your life story," you say politely. "I'm here to help you and I can do that only if you would let me" 
"Well guess what? You cannot help me, I knew I was wasting my time," he gets up and starts to walk away. 
"I asked for half an hour of your time, Harry" 
"Well I don't fucking care" 
"Harry, please listen to me. All I ask is half an hour" 
Little did he know, this half an hour was going to change his life. 
Something about your tone made him stay. He sat back down on the couch, turning away from you. 
"Okay, so if you're not going to talk, I will," you sigh. "So, you have suffered a great loss, someone you loved dearly?" 
"Yes," he still didn't look you in the eye. 
"Who was it?" 
"My…my friend. Girlfriend" 
"And when did this happen?" 
"A year ago" 
"How have you been holding up?" 
He thought of giving another vague answer. How the fuck do you think I'm holding up? I'm fucking dying every single day. 
"Uh- it's been a little better, I guess. It's not as bad as it used to be" 
"Well that's a start. And do you still think about her?" 
Every goddamn minute, lady. What do you want from me? "Yeah sometimes" 
"And how have you been sleeping?" 
I can't sleep. I haven't slept properly for months. If I sleep I see her coming back to me. "Alright I guess" 
This wasn't going anywhere. You thought of recommending him another doctor but something about him charmed you. He was a man who should have been living a great life but his grief was tearing him apart. You had to help him. You felt a strong connection to him, you felt determined. No, I have to help him. I just have to.
"Harry, do you feel like you're responsible for your girlfriend's death?" it was a straightforward question, you had been trying to get something out of him but he wasn't ready to. 
He looked at you dead in the eye, yet could not get any words out. You could sense the anger building up inside him but it wasn't projected at you, he was angry with himself. 
"I….. " he took a few deep breaths, clenching his hands into fists. "Yes" 
"Why is that so?" 
"Fucking hell! Are you for real? She died, okay? And I wasn't there… I wasn't there.. " he was tearing up. "I should have been the one to die! Not her! Not anybody! Everyone just leaves me in the end!" he was full on shouting, letting out everything he had been holding inside himself for a whole year. He had tears in his eyes.
You handed him a box of tissues and he was gasping for breath. When he had calmed down, you both sat in silence for a few minutes. 
"You know, Harry, my friend died the day we had a fight. She was my best friend. I knew her ever since we were three. It was a silly argument. We should not have fought about it. But we did and I told her I wished she would just go away… and then she did" it was painful for you to remember this, but time does heal everything. 
"I'm sorry," his voice was low. "And I'm sorry for all those things I said" 
"No it's alright, that's what you're here for. And besides, it's nothing compared to your loss, Harry" 
"No. It- it's not a competition. Suffering is not a competition. It must've been really hard for you, Dr y/l/n," this was the first time he had addressed you. 
"Call me y/n," you smile at him. "And yeah that's very true. We often blame ourselves, you know, it's very common. We cannot be angry at them so we get angry with ourselves. Even though we know deep in our hearts that there was nothing we could have done" 
There was a long silence. 
"She went out for a drive, that bastard drunk driver," he spoke up. "And I was just resting. She asked me so many times to join her but I wanted to sleep" 
You nod at him and he continued. "That's…the reason I'm not able to sleep. Every night I close my eyes, I think I'll wake up to that phone call" 
"Well yes I don't blame you, our brains sometimes don't process things that come as a shock. And then it just keeps on haunting us forever. Do you believe in life after death, Harry?" 
"Well I don't know what to believe" 
"Have you- felt her? After she was gone?" 
"You'll think I'm crazy" 
"I'm a therapist, it'll take you much more than that to convince me you're crazy" 
"I sometimes talk to her. Like what would she think about this particular situation. Or just that I miss her so much. I don't get any responses but I just try to think like her?" 
"Yeah, that's quite normal actually. People think they need to 'get over' someone's death. But that's not true. You can never really get over something like death" 
"And what does getting over even mean? Like you just forget them? Moving on with your life just means that you think they were never a part of it" 
"Well you're both right and wrong. Yes we must remember our loved ones who are not with us anymore but at the same time, we have to let them go" 
"How? It's too painful" 
"I know. But do you believe in the concept of souls, Harry?" 
"Yeah I mean," he shrugs. 
"The soul is considered to be immortal. And groups of souls tend to travel together. Even if you don't know it, some way, somehow, they're always with us" 
He says nothing but his eyes looked softer now. 
"And just think about it, think of her seeing you like this. Do you think she could have handled you being so miserable?" 
"She would have been heartbroken" 
"Exactly. So do it for her, for yourself. For both of you to feel peace again" 
"Yeah" 
You look at your watch. Half an hour was up. 
"So, Harry. Your half an hour is up. Is there anything else?" 
"Yes, um we can talk about it in our next session?" 
You smile at him. "Of course" 
                          ----------------
After that one half an hour session, Harry was a changed man. He was still mourning, he was still miserable but he had hope. For the first time in a long time, he thought he could actually go on with his life, he could finally feel peace.
The week went by smoothly. Harry tried to make himself busy, by surrounding himself with people and always working. He was still getting nightmares but he was determined to sleep. He was sleeping light, afraid of what deep sleep might show him.
Meanwhile your life was exactly the same, you went on with your day treating people, talking, helping them. You loved your job, you loved the sense of satisfaction you got after patients they told you they were finally better. Every person was a challenge, and you knew there was a gem hidden inside every one of them. All of them had immense potential but life hadn't been kind to them. You felt disturbed and it broke your heart to see people hurting. And you would do anything to make it better for them. To help them.
You couldn’t keep Harry out of your mind. You were thinking about him all day long, awaiting your next session with him. What if he cancels? What can I do if he does? Why am I thinking about him? He had this air around him, a magnetic pull, which was pulling your closer and closer towards him. And why is he so damn attractive? No I should not think about him that way. It was the first and foremost rule of your profession. Never get emotionally attached with your clients. It was a professional relationship and must remain that way.
When he came into your office the following week, you could sense the change in him. You felt proud that a single session made such a difference. There was no arrogance in him, he didn’t seem angry anymore. He was calm and better.
“So, Harry. How was your week?”
“It was good, I’ve been shooting my new short film and it’s coming out to be okay so far”
“Alright and how have you been sleeping?”
“Not that good to be honest. I still get dreams, uh bad dreams”
“What do you see in these dreams?”
“I see the accident scene….again and again, it’s the same dream. Sometimes I see her, she talks to me and all that”
“Hmm and have you talked to your family? Your friends?”
“Yeah I talked to my mum…and my brother”
“What did they say?”
“They said they are here for me and will always love me”
“Yes and I don’t doubt that, Harry. You have a lot of people in your life who love and support you. Embrace that”
The session went by smoothly, he opened up to you about his life, everything about the girl he loved so much. About his family, his career. You found yourself staring at him, taking glances at his hands which he constantly moved while he talked. You noticed he was shaking his leg the whole time. Stop staring, y/n.
Wow she’s so beautiful. And thoughtful. And funny and understanding. What am I doing? She’s my therapist….but…why couldn’t I have met her before? Why didn’t I meet her when I was normal? Would things have been different? But then again, I would have never met her if I was normal.
Things seemed to get better, as the weeks progressed, Harry was becoming more and more like his old self again. But there was a feeling of regret, he thought this was wrong as if he were forgetting her. But you were there to guide him, to tell him that this is what life is. It never stops. No matter what happens, you will heal. Someday, sometime. And each day we progress towards it.
And then it happened. The call came at 1 am in the morning. You were sleeping and you were tired, you had been working all day and just needed some rest. You wouldn't have picked the call up but something told you it was important. That you should pick it up.
“Hello?” you yawn.
You just hear muffled breathing for a few seconds.
“Hello? Who is it?”
“It…it’s me…Harry”
“Harry, what’s wrong?” you thought what could have happened at this time of the night.
“I just- can you-” he sounded like he was choking.
“Harry what’s wrong, you’re scaring me”
“I… can’t… breathe,” you hear him sobbing. ”I had… that… dream, I feel like I’m…going to…die”
“Harry, listen to me. You will be okay. Yeah? Just take deep breaths and sit tight. I’m coming to you”
You search through his file to look for his address. When you find it, you rush through the front door and drive to his house. You were on the phone with him the whole drive.
“Just keep breathing, Harry. Deep breaths, okay?”
To your surprise, the front door was unlocked. It looked like he had gone out into the street in the middle of the night. You search through rooms to find him, and you see him curled into a ball at the corner of a king size bed. You touch his shoulder and he flinches.
“Hey, hey it’s just me. It’s alright”
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know who else to call,” he was crying, with the tears streaming down his cheeks, his eyes looked small and they looked red from the lack of sleep and of tears.
“It’s alright, Harry. Just come here, it’ll be alright,” you pull him towards yourself him and he buries his face into your chest and you held him, stroking his hair and telling him it will be alright.
“That’s it. Let it out, Harry. It’s okay to cry”
You both stayed like that for another 15 minutes. He couldn’t stop crying and you knew he needed that. He had been holding everything in for so long and it just came out like an explosion tonight. You wiped his tears and made him meditate for a few minutes.
He fell asleep and you stayed up all night, looking at him. He looked so innocent while he slept, and cute too, you thought hiding a blush, even though nobody was there to look at you.
That night, Harry finally felt at peace. He was finally able to sleep. He had no nightmares, just a peaceful dream. He saw his girlfriend, running away from him in a white dress with her hair flowing in the wind.
Please don’t leave me, darling. I love you.
I know you do Harry, but you must let me go. I will always be with you. I will always love you. It is time you start caring about yourself, you must let me go. It is time.
No! don’t leave me!
And he woke up. Something about this dream told him that she was right. It was time. He was finally ready to let her go. For both of their sakes.
He went down to find you sleeping on the couch. He was hesitant at his thoughts but deep down he knew he was falling for you. Am I just using her to cope with my loss? Or do I really love her?
You opened your eyes, looking at Harry sitting on the ground, pushing a strand of hair away from your face.
“Good morning, how did you sleep?”
“Better. Really really better. I- I don’t know how to thank you, y/n and I’m so sorry”
“Hey it’s alright, and I’m glad I could help,” you smile. “I should go now, I have to get to work”
“Let me make breakfast and let me drive you to your house”
“Oh no it’s okay I can-”
“I owe this much to you, y/n. Let me”
“Okay”
                              -----------------
It wasn’t until another week when Harry had his next session. You had been thinking about him all the time, you were confused, it wasn’t supposed to go this way. But he….who am I kidding I’m in love with him.
When he walked through the door on a Thursday morning next week, he looked healthy and happier than ever. You felt a sense of happiness yourself, therapy is always beneficial to both the patient and the therapist. Every person is a deep universe, their thoughts, experiences, pain, joy, everything. Empathising with clients is a great learning experience, it becomes a part your personality. It becomes a part of you.
“Hey y/n”
“Hi Harry”
“So my week as been as it’s always and I’ve been feeling a lot better ever since that day…and that dream” he had told you about the dream he had the night you watched him sleep. He seemed to completely change after that, he let go of the intense emotions he had been carrying around.
“That’s very good and you’ve made a lot of progress since our first meeting”
“Yeah…I have”
The session went on as usual, he talked about everything that happened, he started fighting with his brothers again, which he hadn’t done in a long time and even though they were pissed off at him, they were happy to have him back.
“Um Harry,” you say at the end of the session. “I think-” you try to choose your words correctly. “I think it’s about time you start seeing another therapist, yeah?”
You see his face drop. “wh-why? I’m doing so much better, is..is it because of that night? I’m so sorry y/n”
“No it’s not that. You and I both know what’s happening between us, it’s wrong for a therapist to get emotionally attached with her patient. I’m sorry, Harry”
“So you’re saying that you’re becoming emotionally attached with me?”
“I..I’m-“
“It’s alright. I understand y/n”
“Yes, thank you. This has been great”
“So… now that you’re not my therapist, can I meet you for coffee this evening?”
“Harry-“
“Half an hour, Dr y/l/n. Just give me half an hour of your time, if you still feel the same way, I’ll never bother you again”
“Uh-" you hesitate. You knew you should have said no. You were going to say no. Yet the words which came out of your mouth were “Okay then, it’s a date”
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