by Sarah Delany
While sitting in english at the end of the day, a year nine boy walks in with a note for Mr. Barnes. He hands it to him then leaves while Mr. Barnes reads it. He glances up and lets me know the guidance counsellor Miss Steepleton is wanting to see me. With my brows pulling together, I pack my bag and shrug my shoulders at Tate, Penny and Scott as they look at me with curious expressions of their own.
“I’ll see you in the car park if I’m not back by the end of class,” I whisper to Tate as I leave, and trek down the halls to the counsellor’s room. I knock on the wooden door with the bronze guidance counsellor sign above it and a few seconds later Miss Steepleton opens it with a beaming smile on her face.
“Welcome Tamsyn. Thanks so much for coming. I didn’t drag you away from anything important, did I?” she asks, and I shake my head. She gestures for me to enter and take a seat on the tan couch while she takes a seat on the matching armchair across from me. She folds one leg over the other and then clasps her hands in front of her before she talks. “So Tamsyn, I’ve been informed about what happened over the weekend with Rafe,” she softly says, which makes me wring my hands together. My heart pounds in my chest while I focus on my breathing, willing myself not to get overwhelmed.
“Now I know you may not be ready to talk about it but I want you to know if you’d like to talk then I’m here to listen. I can help you find ways to deal with any feelings that may occur. It was actually your mum who contacted me. She’s worried about you and thought it might help if you talked to someone.” Inhale, exhale, I keep my breathing steady while she talks. It isn’t until I feel the cold on my chin I realise tears have escaped unnoticed. I swipe hastily at them to brush them away.
“I can’t imagine what you went through the other night Tamsyn. I do know if you talk about what happened and how you are feeling I can work with you to help you deal with your feelings.” She pauses and looks at me with an encouraging smile on her face and the words slip from my lips, needing release.
“I’m just so mad and hurt and upset,” I tell her, my anger creeping into my voice. “It’s like all these different emotions are swirling around inside me and I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. I’m incredibly sad at the thought that Rafe thought suicide was his only option to feel better but I’m also incredibly angry for the same reason. I just wish he had opened up to someone,” I tell her, wiping my cheeks.
“Do you want to tell me what happened that night?” she quietly asks, keeping her full attention on me. I start retelling the story of how I was scared when I realised what he meant and how I ran all the way to the dock in the hopes I was wrong. As I recall what happened after I found him in the water, my words get drowned out by my sobs and she moves to sit next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and handing me a box of tissues.
Once my tears and sobs have softened she says, “Rafe is very lucky to have a friend like you and I’m sure he knows it. I need you to do me a favour though. I need you to ease up on yourself. Let go of the what ifs because Rafe is fine now and he is in the best place he can be at the moment. I don’t want you taking this burden on your shoulders. I know it will be hard and the doubts and what ifs will creep into your mind but you need to fight against them taking hold. Do you think you could do that for me?” I stare at her for a minute before I give a small nod.
“Okay, so every time your mind overwhelms you and thoughts like that start to appear, I want you to let them come and focus on your breathing while you release the thoughts away. It’s like a mini meditation ritual. It isn’t an easy fix, I’m not going to lie to you. But it will help in the long run. And I’d like it if you came and saw me regularly. We can do once a week sessions if you like, and any other time you feel overwhelmed, my door is always open. How does that sound?” she asks hopefully, and I slowly nod again. “At our next session we can check in and see how the meditation ritual is helping.” Before I leave I ask her if she could check in with Tate, JP, Scott and Penny too to see if she can help them as well because I know we are all struggling and she says she’s more than happy to do that.
Walking to the carpark to meet the others, I feel less burdened than I have since Saturday night and I can breathe more freely. I catch sight of Tate leaning on the side of JP’s car waiting for me and a smile drags his lips up when he sees me walking towards him. As I reach him, he wraps me in his arms, delivering a kiss to my lips making me sigh, and I feel less weighed down in his embrace.
Chapter 9
-- Tate --
On Thursday at school, I am called into the guidance counsellor’s office during third period. I haven’t been here before so I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Miss Steepleton yet. Her friendly smile welcomes me into the dimly lit room. Her sleek blonde bob frames her heavily makeup filled face as she gestures for me to take a seat.
I know Tamsyn got called into her office on Wednesday and earlier today JP and Scott had their meetings with her. I guess she is going through all of our group. Tamsyn mentioned the guidance counsellor wanted to check in and make sure we were all okay after everything that has happened with Rafe.
“So Tate, I know we haven’t crossed paths while you’ve been at school but I wanted to have a chat and see how things were going. I’ve been informed about Rafe and I’m just touching base with all his close friends to make sure everyone is okay,” she states, all the while smiling at me.
I relax into my seat and take a deep breath. My parents wanted me to talk to someone because of Quinn. Unfortunately the therapist my mum booked isn’t available for another month as they were fully booked so I could talk to Miss Steepleton until then. She seems pleasant enough.
“What we talk about here, stays in here right?” I ask her, wanting to know my thoughts are safe with her if I say them out loud before I speak.
“Of course Tate. This is a safe space. The only reason I would need to tell someone else is if I thought you were a danger to someone else or to yourself. Anything else is safe with me, okay?” she says, as I stare into her eyes believing her sincerity. So for the first time since Tamsyn, I choose to open myself up to someone else in the hopes I can heal. I’m tired of carrying all this hurt and guilt around all the time. The weight still weighs me down some days and I want to lessen the burden so I can breathe easier.
“Do you know much of why I started at this school?” I ask, staring at her. She changes position in her chair and shakes her head at me in response.
“No, I don’t actually know anything about your back story Tate. Would you like to share it with me?” I take a deep breath and nod.
My voice cracks as I say, “I’m a twin. Well I used to be, I guess I should say. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say actually. My twin sister Quinn committed suicide last year but ended up in a coma. She ended up dying a few months ago. So does that still make me a twin or am I just half of a whole now?” I lift my tear filled gaze up to meet hers and I’m met with a heartfelt sigh from her.
“I’m so sorry to hear that Tate. Have you talked to anyone about Quinn?” Hearing her name on a stranger’s lips has my heart pounding but I push it out of my thoughts because I need to get used to it. Quinn deserves to be remembered and talked about. I’m doing her an injustice by not mentioning her.
“Not really. Thinking about Quinn gives me panic attacks but they have lessened a bit lately, but sometimes they feel like they might overwhelm me,” I say, sadly dropping my gaze.
“Well would you like to come and see me a few times a week Tate and talk about Quinn or whatever else is going on? Panic attacks are nothing to be ashamed about but it sounds like there is a lot going on in your head you probably need to talk through. I promise you, once you voice those thoughts to someone, they won’t feel as heavy,” she says, her friendly smile directed at me again.
“I think I’d like that. My mum has booked me in with someone but they can’t see me for a while as they are fully booked,” I tell h
er, and she nods.
“Well I can see you in the meantime then,” she replies. “So it must have been hard for you with Rafe’s incident? Did it bring up memories of Quinn?”
I nod as I reply, “All I could think when I heard about Rafe was please, no, not again. I don’t think I could handle more pain on top of what I’m already suffering. I’ve been so worried about Tamsyn I pushed my feelings to the side,” I tell her, speaking a truth I didn’t even realise I had inside me.
“You and Tamsyn are together?” she asks, and I nod. We haven’t put any labels on it but it’s obvious to anyone who sees us that we are in fact together. “Well that’s totally understandable you are worried about her. I’m sure Tamsyn wouldn’t want you bottling up your feelings for the sake of hers though, so try talking to her when things get a bit much. Your feelings are just as valid Tate.”
“I just want to protect her, you know?” I tell her truthfully.
“I get that Tate but you also have to look after yourself too. Leaning on each other during the tough times is not a weakness but a strength and it can only make your bond stronger,” she tells me. “And Tamsyn is a tough girl, I know she’d want nothing more than to help you too.”
“Okay, I’ll try talking to her too,” I say, which has her nodding.
“So can I ask how you are coping since Quinn and Rafe?” she asks genuinely, wanting to help me.
“I went back home for Quinn’s funeral and I wasn’t coping at all. It was like I lost all motivation to live. I pushed Tamsyn and my friends here away. I was tired a lot and didn’t have the energy to do much,” I say.
“Tate, losing your twin must have been incredibly hard. I can’t imagine the type of pain it would cause. Would it be alright if I got you to fill in a small multi choice questionnaire? All you have to do is circle one answer. The choices are the same for each question: never, little, some, most or always,” she says, and I nod. She walks over to a shelf she has on the far wall, finds the sheet of paper she needs and hands it to me with a pen. I start reading the questions and circling the answers I think relate to me. It takes me a few minutes to finish and then I hand it back to her. It wasn’t until the last few questions I figured out what the form was. She calculates my answers and tells me my results.
“So Tate do you know what this form is?”
“A mental health assessment?” I ask, and she nods.
“You landed in the medium range Tate. What that tells me is you are moderately suffering from depression. Did you think you were depressed?” she asks.
“I don’t know if I would have thought it was depression. I thought it was just my grief causing it.”
“That may be the case, but there can be other factors that contribute as well. Depression can occur for numerous reasons and truth be told, there are a lot of people out there who suffer from depression who don’t realise they are. They may feel they have no energy to do the things they normally love, or they start distancing themselves from friends and family. They may also feel empty inside or even sad for some unexplained reason. Depression ranges through a lot of things so sometimes it can be hard to tell if someone is depressed or not. And usually the person has no idea anything is even going on with them so they won’t seek help because they don’t think they need it,” she explains. It sounds so simple and easy coming out of her mouth. I didn’t think I was depressed just that I was grieving my sister.
“So if I asked you Tate if you thought you were depressed, what would you say?”
“I would say no,” I tell her.
“And do you think Quinn was depressed when she committed suicide?” she asks.
“She had a diary she was always writing in and some of the things she was writing in there make me think she was depressed,” I say sadly.
“Do you feel guilty for Quinn, for not seeing that she was depressed?” she asks, and my hands start to shake. It’s as if she has pulled the thoughts straight from my head.
“Yes,” I whisper, trying to reign in my shaking hands by sitting on them.
“Tate, if you couldn’t recognise when you were depressed then how could you have possibly known that Quinn was?” she softly asks, and my defences try to attack my brain.
“Because I’m her twin. I should have seen she wasn’t alright. I should have known,” I say louder, raising my voice.
“That is a lot of guilt to carry around Tate and I assure you there is no way you could have known. You weren’t in her head. Even being her twin, there is no way to know what goes on in someone else’s head if they don’t express it to you.” Her words cause hot tears to burn my eyes. My head and heart hold on to the guilt she is trying to rid me of. “Is this how you feel about Rafe too? That you should have been able to see it in him as well?” I lift my tear filled eyes to her and nod.
“That guilt is misplaced Tate. It isn’t your job to know the thoughts of others. You are putting a lot of pressure on yourself.” She makes a lot of sense but it’s hard to let it go. A lone hot tear escapes and trails a path down my cheek and I quickly wipe it away from my chin.
“Tate, I know that I told you what is said in here stays between us but I’d like you to talk to your parents, if possible. Let them know about the questionnaire and that it shows you have depression. Do you think you can rely on your parents?” she asks.
“Yes, they’re great,” I tell her, meaning it because I am lucky to have the parents I do.
“Lean on them Tate. I can’t speak for them but I’m sure they would want nothing more than to help you. And you do need help Tate. You have been through a lot that most people your age would never go through over the course of their whole life. And I recommend you see a doctor as well to see what they say about the depression too, in case they think you need medication. I could give your parents a ring and talk to them for you if you like?” she offers, and I nod. Pulling out my phone, I give her my mum and dad’s cell phone numbers which she writes down.
“So are you happy to come and see me a couple times a week? We can work it around your classes or in your lunch times if you like so you don’t miss too much school work?” she offers.
“I’d like that. Maybe one lunchtime and one class period, if that’s alright with you?” I suggest, not wanting to spend all my lunchtimes holed up in a therapist’s office spilling my guts.
She smiles as she says, “That’s fine Tate. I’ll work out a schedule and we can organise what works best for you. Now the bell is about to go for lunch so if you want, I can ring your parents at lunch and let them know you’ve given me permission to call them?”
“Thanks. That would be great,” I tell her.
“And thank you Tate for trusting me enough to talk with me.” Her warm smile shines at me, putting me at ease. I grab my bag from the floor and fling it over my shoulder as I rise to leave.
“Thanks Miss Steepleton. I’ll see you next week,” I say, opening the door.
“See you then, Tate.”
As I step away from her office, the bell for lunch goes so I head straight to the cafeteria and I’m surprisingly the first in line. I fill my tray and walk out the side doors to our bench in the sun. I exhale and embrace the heat for a minute while I take a seat and wait for the others. One by one, they join me with their own lunch filled trays.
When Tamsyn slides in next to me, I lean down and kiss her neck just below her ear softly whispering, “I missed you,” which I do whenever she isn’t around. She shivers next to me and rewards me with her perfect smile, making my heart thump loudly in my chest for a good reason this time.
That afternoon my mum gives me a ring, “Hey honey,” she says, when I answer.
“Hey Mum, I’m guessing Miss Steepleton gave you a call,” I say, jumping straight to it.
“Yeah she did. I knew you weren’t coping after Quinn but I thought you were grieving. I didn’t think you might be depressed as wel
l,” she sadly says, and I catch a sniffle she tries to hide.
“Don’t beat yourself up Mum. I didn’t think that either. And you did want me to see someone to talk about it so they probably would have picked up on it too,” I tell her, not wanting her to feel guilty. There’s been a lot of guilt going around and it doesn’t help the situation.
“How are you feeling today?” she asks.
“I’m good Mum. It was actually good to talk to Miss Steepleton about things,” I tell her.
“She’s suggested you see a doctor so I’ve asked Sharon to organise an appointment for you. She was going to talk to you when she gets home from work,” she tells me.
“Okay.”
“Honey, I want you to know that you can talk to me and your dad about anything too.”
“Thanks Mum. I love you.”
“I love you too,” she says, before hanging up.
A few hours later after I’ve finished my homework, there’s a knock on my door.
“Come in,” I say.
“Hi Tate,” my aunty Sharon says, as she pokes her head around the corner.
“Hey,” I say, lifting my head from my books, spread out in front of me.
She takes a seat on the bed, looks at me and says, “So I talked to your mum and I’ve organised an appointment with our regular GP that we see. I’ve booked you in for tomorrow after school. He’s good Tate, we’ve been going to him for years.”
“Thank you,” I tell her.
“So I’ll finish work early tomorrow and be here after school to take you okay?” she says.