Mam had managed to scrape together the money for me to see a private counselor, but at eighty euros per session, and having to censor my thoughts at my mother’s request, I’d only seen her five times before lying to my mother and telling her that I felt better. I didn’t feel better. I never felt better. I just couldn’t bear to watch my mother struggle. I despised being a financial burden on her, so I sucked it up, slapped on a smile, and continued to walk into hell every day.
