"So, Daphne," The therapist said, "Why don't you tell me why you're here." What kind of question?

"I'm here to get help," I replied in a 'duh' tone of voice.

"Well we both know that, but what did you come here for that you needed help with?" She asked.

"I'm here because my fiancé and I felt that maybe it was time for me to talk about my past and how it effects my relationship," I explained.

"And what about your past made you want to come here?" She asked.

"For starters, my mother," I responded.

"Your mother. What about your mother made you want to come here?" She questioned.

"It's not really something I'm comfortable talking about to be honest. It's kind of a touchy subject for me," I explained.

"Well I can't help you until you tell me what your mother did to make you feel as if you had to see a therapist," She said.

"I know, but my mom and I's relationship isn't something I'd like to think about. It's just...it's just...ah. Never mind," I responded.

"It's just what, Daphne?" She asked.

"How do I put this? It's just that she's done and said things to me that have hurt me little by little over the years to the point of where I have those days in which I get really insecure about myself and wonder about what my fiancé see in me that makes him attracted to me," I explained.

"I take it that your mother hasn't always been the ideal mother figure in your life?" She asked.

"No she hasn't. She has never ever done anything for me, except insult me and belittle me since the day I was born," I replied.

"How so?" She asked.

"My grandmother, when I was older, told me that after I was born, my mother didn't care for me. She refused to breast feed me, she refused to hold me, she refused to bathe me, she refused to clothe me, she refused to just do anything for me at all. My grandmother told me that my father was the one who mostly took care of me and that he was the one that made sure I was dressed, fed, bathed, and clothes every single day. My father even learned how to do my hair when I was five because my mother would've let me walk out the house looking like I was homeless or something. It was just that bad," I informed.

"Why do you think that your mother felt this way?" She asked.

"I don't think. I know," I responded.

"How do you know why she felt this way?" She questioned.

"I had overheard her one day when I was five. She had invited her friend's over for lunch as usual. I was supposed to be in my room because she felt that I would be a nuisance," I started, "I had gotten very hungry and I wanted food. I decided to go downstairs and get something to eat. Just as I was about to approach the kitchen, I heard my mother talking to her friends about me. I had decided to listen in on the conversation because I was a little curious. I heard my own mother say that she didn't want me in the first place, my dad did. She told them that I was a mistake, a horrible mistake that she had wished she could've gotten rid of. She even told them that when I was born, she wanted to pay a nurse there to take me as far away from her as possible, but because my dad wanted to keep me, she couldn't. She even said that if she had the chance now that she would just pack up all of my clothes and just put me into foster care. It was in that moment that I realized that my mother didn't even care about me in the least bit. I realized that the woman who carried me for nine months in her stomach wanted nothing to do with me whatsoever."

"How did that make you feel to hear that?" She asked.

"It made me feel worthless and it broke my heart to hear that at such a young age. In my opinion, no child should have to hear that their parents, the ones who are supposed to love and protect them, don't want them or love them," I answered.

"That is true," She agreed, "Now, you mentioned your dad when talking about your mother. Does he know about how your mother feels about you?" She asked.

"Yes he did know. He knew about all of it, but he chose to stay with her," I replied.

"I noticed that you keep talking about your dad in a past tense. Is he deceased?" She said.

"Yeah he is," I replied, "He died when I was ten of pancreatic cancer."

"Oh. I'm so sorry," She said.

"It's fine," I assured her, "I like to think that he's in a much better place than this," I responded.

"Now your relationship with your dad was a very positive one, am I correct?" She queried.

"It was," I nodded.

"Can you go into detail on how it was for me?" She inquired.

"Sure. Umm...like I said before, my dad was mostly the one who took care of me. He was the one who got me dressed in the morning for school, made sure I brushed my teeth, styled my hair, bathed me, clothed, fed me, and pretty much did everything for me. My dad was a great man who loved me and my siblings no matter what. My dad, in my opinion, was the greatest and most magnificent man I have ever met in my life," I explained, "I was so lucky to even have him by my side during those ten years of my life."

"I can tell that you admired your father very much," She said.

"I did and I still do today. My dad was a magnificent man who loved me no matter what and who would've done anything for me," I smiled, "He made me feel loved and cherished. He made me feel like I was wanted if that makes sense."

"It makes sense. You admire and appreciate your father for loving you and doing all the things that your mother did not want to do with and for you," She explained.

"Wow. Spot on," I remarked.

"Thank you. Now, do you feel more comfortable now to discuss more about your strained relationship with your mother?" She asked.

"Yeah. I guess," I responded.

"Okay. We have at least thirty minutes left in this session. We can go a little more into it and pick back up for your next session," She informed.

"Alright," I nodded.

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