Guilt and Independence

So, I’ve been eating a chunk of guilt. Why? Because my mom keeps on showing efforts to bring me to a psychologist. A while ago, while we are inside the vehicle, she kept on mumbling something and pointing out places we pass by saying “That there is blah blah blah.” As much as I want the ride to the hospital to be quiet, I can’t. My mom has been reaching out to me ever since my dad told her I needed psychiatric consultation (which I overheard earlier in their conversation). I don’t know, but I am scared. Scared of finally opening up again to her saying that everything in my piece always hurts. And now I’m pushing her away because I really don’t want her to depend on me and I don’t want to depend on her too. I am sincerely thankful to her because she’s now enlightened, and we will be going back for my first session on the 31st. But I don’t think it’s actually enough to repair a broken figure, especially that it has been broke for years now. A chunk of guilt really tastes like ew.