The place where I used to normally see my therapist was a colorful room beautifully decorated. The curtains were pink and yellow, the sofas were maroon in color — both my sofa and my therapist sofa, her name was Mrs Butler or Dr Butler as her licence read. I always wondered if she was called Mrs Butler because her husband was a Butler once or it was just a name. However, all the time I wondered why her husband's name had to be Butler. Everything about the room being colorful while I was at my darkest moments during that time somehow gave me anxiety. Hence I told Martin to have Mrs Butler decorate the room to my choosing, and she did.