Therapy
The Start
Those days when it just seems like everything is wrong?
When you’re on your way to class, and there’s no spaces left in the parking lot, so you have to park across the street, and it’s pouring rain. You get to class, late, and find out that you read the wrong pages for the reading assignment, so you have no chance at getting a good mark on the quiz you’re taking, and just when it feels like the day couldn’t get any worse, you realize you’ve locked your keys in your car. It’s one of those moments where you want to grab a fistful of your hair, stare up at the sky and just scream. Just scream at the top of your lungs, letting every frustration, every let down, everything else that was going on around you that’s just been building up into this one huge ball of fury be let out through a single scream. You want to pick up the book you have to read and throw it across the room, pick up the radio and smash it. You want to do something, anything, to just take away the anger.
Those letdowns, those small frustrations, they all cluster together in front of you until you can’t see anymore because they’re all just hovering in front of your eyes. They’re blackness. They’ve become that cliché darkness that swallows you whole and just waits to see if you’re strong enough to fight your way out of it, or if you’ll just surrender and let it take your life.
You know those days? Love is that light. It’s the one thing that makes you stop, mid scream, and remember that even though at that moment makes you want to jump off of that hypothetical cliff, if you can just hold yourself together long enough to make it back to that person, they’ll hold you together instead. Love is the light. Sometimes it’s the only light you have, and it’s the only thing that you can ever find the energy to fight for.
The trouble is, when that light goes out, the need to keep fighting can flicker out with it, which is how I found myself in counselling.
"I felt invincible when he touched me, and as much as I hated the distance between us, those moments when he was beside me, they were the best moments of my entire life.” I let out a long breath of air as I finished the sentence, lifting up my eyes to face Dr. Lana Bailey, who was nodding her head in that typical therapist way that made me want to reach across the room and hit her.
“When did he die?” She asked, her pen and notepad sitting on her lap.
I almost choked on the air I was inhaling. The mention of him not being here anymore was still so alien to me, I never knew how to react when someone brought it up. In all the time I had been in counselling, Dr. Bailey had only asked about his passing once, and that was during my first session. I had to take a moment to find my voice once more before I answered, “Last year. In June.”
She nodded, her lips tightening just a tiny bit before she tried to give me a reassuring smile. “You’ve handled it so well, Katy, you really have. The strength that you’ve shown in our sessions, it’s a remarkable thing for someone your age.”
It was my turn to nod as I glanced over at the clock, noting the time. “My session is over now, isn’t it?”
She lifted up her wrist to check her watch, sighing. “Yes it is. Time just gets away from you sometimes, doesn’t it?” She asked, standing up to walk me to the door. “I’ll see you again next Thursday, right?”
I dug through my purse for my keys, looking back up at her once I had found them. “Yeah. Same time, right?”
“The time has never changed, Katy,” She reminded me with a small smile. “Take care of yourself.”
I nodded, adjusting the strap of my purse as I turned to make my way through the office and out to the parking lot, lifting a hand up to move my hair out of my face.
From behind me I heard Dr. Bailey grab the board that listed the names of patients visiting her before she called out, “Kristopher?”
I froze, my one foot poised to take a step as I lifted my eyes up and looked back at her before I scanned around the room quickly, noticing him sitting in the far corner of the room, his shaggy hair falling in front of his face as he bent down to pick up his wallet and keys from the floor before he stood up. I could only stare at him, completely shocked to see him again, to see him right in front of me. I watched him as he made his way towards the door Dr. Bailey had left open for him, taking in a big breath of air before stepping through the doorway and turning to pull the door closed. His eyes lifted up to meet mine, the same look of surprise that was on my face washing over his as he took in my features.
It had been just over a year since I had seen him last. Even at the funeral, I hadn’t seen him. Whether it was because he was never in my sight or because I was too numb to notice, I’m not sure. He looked so much older, as if it had been many years instead of just one, and the way he wore his fatigue on his face made my heart crumple. I could see the sadness in his features, the way the depression had soaked into his skin. I wondered if I looked the same way he did. If I was as obvious with my emotions as he was.
I don’t know how long we stood there, staring at one another, but when he fell out of his trance of surprise, his face morphed into something different. The lines of fatigue lifted into rage, and his tired eyes resembled a darkness I hadn’t seen in so long. With a hand on the door he shook his head at me. “This was all your fault.”
The door slammed shut, startling the other people in the waiting room. I looked at the door for a long time, how long I’m not sure. The tiny fleck of hope that I had held onto, that maybe things would get better, was gone. I eventually turned myself away from the door, wiping at my watering eyes as I made my way out of the building and into my car.
When you’re on your way to class, and there’s no spaces left in the parking lot, so you have to park across the street, and it’s pouring rain. You get to class, late, and find out that you read the wrong pages for the reading assignment, so you have no chance at getting a good mark on the quiz you’re taking, and just when it feels like the day couldn’t get any worse, you realize you’ve locked your keys in your car. It’s one of those moments where you want to grab a fistful of your hair, stare up at the sky and just scream. Just scream at the top of your lungs, letting every frustration, every let down, everything else that was going on around you that’s just been building up into this one huge ball of fury be let out through a single scream. You want to pick up the book you have to read and throw it across the room, pick up the radio and smash it. You want to do something, anything, to just take away the anger.
Those letdowns, those small frustrations, they all cluster together in front of you until you can’t see anymore because they’re all just hovering in front of your eyes. They’re blackness. They’ve become that cliché darkness that swallows you whole and just waits to see if you’re strong enough to fight your way out of it, or if you’ll just surrender and let it take your life.
You know those days? Love is that light. It’s the one thing that makes you stop, mid scream, and remember that even though at that moment makes you want to jump off of that hypothetical cliff, if you can just hold yourself together long enough to make it back to that person, they’ll hold you together instead. Love is the light. Sometimes it’s the only light you have, and it’s the only thing that you can ever find the energy to fight for.
The trouble is, when that light goes out, the need to keep fighting can flicker out with it, which is how I found myself in counselling.
"I felt invincible when he touched me, and as much as I hated the distance between us, those moments when he was beside me, they were the best moments of my entire life.” I let out a long breath of air as I finished the sentence, lifting up my eyes to face Dr. Lana Bailey, who was nodding her head in that typical therapist way that made me want to reach across the room and hit her.
“When did he die?” She asked, her pen and notepad sitting on her lap.
I almost choked on the air I was inhaling. The mention of him not being here anymore was still so alien to me, I never knew how to react when someone brought it up. In all the time I had been in counselling, Dr. Bailey had only asked about his passing once, and that was during my first session. I had to take a moment to find my voice once more before I answered, “Last year. In June.”
She nodded, her lips tightening just a tiny bit before she tried to give me a reassuring smile. “You’ve handled it so well, Katy, you really have. The strength that you’ve shown in our sessions, it’s a remarkable thing for someone your age.”
It was my turn to nod as I glanced over at the clock, noting the time. “My session is over now, isn’t it?”
She lifted up her wrist to check her watch, sighing. “Yes it is. Time just gets away from you sometimes, doesn’t it?” She asked, standing up to walk me to the door. “I’ll see you again next Thursday, right?”
I dug through my purse for my keys, looking back up at her once I had found them. “Yeah. Same time, right?”
“The time has never changed, Katy,” She reminded me with a small smile. “Take care of yourself.”
I nodded, adjusting the strap of my purse as I turned to make my way through the office and out to the parking lot, lifting a hand up to move my hair out of my face.
From behind me I heard Dr. Bailey grab the board that listed the names of patients visiting her before she called out, “Kristopher?”
I froze, my one foot poised to take a step as I lifted my eyes up and looked back at her before I scanned around the room quickly, noticing him sitting in the far corner of the room, his shaggy hair falling in front of his face as he bent down to pick up his wallet and keys from the floor before he stood up. I could only stare at him, completely shocked to see him again, to see him right in front of me. I watched him as he made his way towards the door Dr. Bailey had left open for him, taking in a big breath of air before stepping through the doorway and turning to pull the door closed. His eyes lifted up to meet mine, the same look of surprise that was on my face washing over his as he took in my features.
It had been just over a year since I had seen him last. Even at the funeral, I hadn’t seen him. Whether it was because he was never in my sight or because I was too numb to notice, I’m not sure. He looked so much older, as if it had been many years instead of just one, and the way he wore his fatigue on his face made my heart crumple. I could see the sadness in his features, the way the depression had soaked into his skin. I wondered if I looked the same way he did. If I was as obvious with my emotions as he was.
I don’t know how long we stood there, staring at one another, but when he fell out of his trance of surprise, his face morphed into something different. The lines of fatigue lifted into rage, and his tired eyes resembled a darkness I hadn’t seen in so long. With a hand on the door he shook his head at me. “This was all your fault.”
The door slammed shut, startling the other people in the waiting room. I looked at the door for a long time, how long I’m not sure. The tiny fleck of hope that I had held onto, that maybe things would get better, was gone. I eventually turned myself away from the door, wiping at my watering eyes as I made my way out of the building and into my car.
I Love this story!
4/7/14