Walking out of my office, I step onto the elevator, and instead of stopping at Amelia's floor as I usually do, I text her saying I have to run an errand and hit the button for the first floor.
I'm nervous. I don't know what to expect. What if she seemed nice on the phone, but is actually judgemental and nasty towards me and my situation? What if she tells me that I cannot be helped? What if…
None of these thoughts are probably true, but unlike my other thoughts, I can't stop them from bouncing around in my head. I wish my brain was silent. Even if it was only for a minute or two. I just need some silence to actually think.
Gripping the forms tighter in my hand, I walk through the parking lot and to my car. Starting the engine, I quickly type in the address into Google Maps and let it guide me to a red and brown brick building with a parking lot that is a quarter full. Is this right? The GPS says that I have arrived, but I expected something more upbeat, something more positive. The building looks old and daunting.
I ignore the appearance of the building and get out of the car. Grabbing the necessary papers, I shut and lock the door before facing the building again. This place may have a bad appearance, but the inside could be beautiful and she could be really nice and supportive either way. That is what I need the most.
The inside of the building is similar to a doctor's office. The beige colors on the wall make it look neutral and the few images hanging make it seem less serious and unwelcoming. I guess the people who work here and who visit here don't plan on living here or hanging around this place so there is no point to decorate. I don't know what I was expecting honestly.
There is a sign to my left that lists out the offices and their location in the building. Gabrielle's is on the third floor along with a few other therapists. I guess that is good, there will be more privacy because it is not combined with different offices that also use this building.
Okay, I can do this. She is going to help me. I need to get help and live my life the way I want it.
With that thought in mind, I get onto another elevator and hit the button for the third floor. I have about fifteen seconds to change my mind before the doors open again and I step out. I feel better, more relieved when I step off the elevator. I am going to do this.
Her door is right in front of me, I can't miss it. Taking one last deep breath, I walk up to the open wooden door and head inside where a woman with brown hair and green eyes is sitting with a smile on her face. She stands up when she sees me.
"Hi! You must be, Rose. It is so nice to meet you. I'm going to shut the door and we can get started. How does that sound?"
"That sounds great, thank you. I brought the forms with me. I am going to need all the time I can get if I want to make any progress."
The door lightly clicks shut and she walks back over to the chair she was sitting in when I first came in.
"Okay, great. Before we get started, I just need those papers. I will file these after today's session, so don't worry about today's co-pay, if you have one. This is just a trial run to see if I am the right fit for you."
Handing her the papers, she puts them in the notebook on the armrest of her chair after checking to make sure everything is filled out.
"Perfect. Why don't we get started? Why did you come here today?"
This is the moment of truth. Once I tell her about why I am here, my whole life will begin to change.
I need to do this. This is my life. I need to take control.
"Uh… I- I'm… well, I'm not really sure where to start."
"You can start anywhere you want to. If you feel something that happened years ago is relevant to the reason you are here today, then you can start there"
"Uh, okay. I- I guess I can tell you about my childhood and then work my way to now. I think that is helpful. Okay," taking one more deep breath, I spend the next hour rehashing everything about my childhood from my parents' increasing need to argue, their untimely death, and how I had to learn to support myself at an early age.
I didn't expect for the session to go this way, honestly. I thought I would just talk about what happened, get some tips on how to fix it, and then leave. But, now, my whole perspective has changed about therapy. She was there every step of the way and offered guidance when I needed it and made a few notes that helped me realize that maybe I wasn't able to connect with my peers for two reasons. The first reason is the fact that my maturity level was higher than theirs because I had to care for myself, and, two, I didn't want to get close to anybody so I couldn't be hurt and left alone again. I never realized that I had been running from relationships. And looking back on it now, I have been. I am close to my one professor who taught my writing classes. He may have given a difficult assignment at the end, but I have taken his courses for years. I should have a great relationship with him and yet I always kept him at arm's length.
Walking out of her office, I feel somewhat relieved. I didn't get to the reason I was there, but I think I need to take baby steps before I disclose what happened to me a couple of months ago. I want to trust and get to know her before I tell her such a traumatic experience and I want her to get to know me too.
A short elevator and car ride later, I stop dead in my tracks as I see a figure sitting in my chair behind my desk. How did she even get in here?
"Amelia, what are you doing in here?"
"Your lunch break ended a while ago. Where were you? What errands did you have to run? We haven't had lunch in a while." She puts her hand up as I open my mouth to disagree. We have had lunch together, but I just haven't been talking, I have been stuck in my head and she has to bump my arm every couple of minutes so she can talk to me.
Sighing, I walk into my office and shut the door. I knew this would happen eventually, I just didn't expect it after my first therapy session.
"I know I have been pretty MIA lately, and I apologize for that. This last week and a half has been tougher than normal and I know I have started to become closed off and quiet like I was when I first started work again. However, I am working on getting better and I would like to have lunch with you sometime this week if you still want to have lunch with me."
"Rose, you may not remember, but I do. We weren't the closest of friends, but that is because we were still getting to know each other. Now, though, it is as if we are just meeting for the first time. For you it is and I am trying to be sensitive about that, but sometimes it is so hard. Honestly, sometimes I just want to shake you and make everything that happened disappear.
"I don't understand what you went through, and not to be insensitive, but I hope I never do. However, this does not mean that I want to get to know you. The "you" you are right now. You were my friend before and you are now. I want to help you, but if you keep shutting me out, I will never know what support you need from me."
I stand there in shock. I never realized how what happened to me and my behavior now was impacting everyone around me. I thought I was in this alone despite everyone's claims that they were here for me. Now, I realize that I do have people who may not understand me, but want to be there for me anyway.
Walking over to where she is sitting, tears brim my eyes. She pushes the chair back and stands, her eyes also watery. When I am close enough, she pulls me into her chest, and tears stream down my cheeks. I don't know if I will ever get better, but I know that I will be okay with everyone in my life.