The office

It was winter.Cold to most but comforting to myself.We drove down the snow and slush covered roads.I watched out the passengers window,as other cars passed and my anxiety crept up into my throat,choking me.I could feel my heart beating in my chest,it felt as if it were in a cage and trying to fight it’s way out.

We turn into a small parking area.So small it had only six or so parking spaces, though the lines, normally vibrant, faded into the dirty snow.The cat turns off.I didn’t realize how loud it had been, as I now sit there in silence with my window down,and a cigarette barely lit between my lips,inhaling it slowly as though it will somehow make my nerves that of a normal human being.

I finish smoking.Rubbing the smoldering butt into some snow left sitting on the sill of the window.I look as the ash turns the snow black.Silently, I think to my self, “ that’s probably what my lungs look like”, quickly followed by an empty silence of dis concern.I roll my window up, trying hard to convince myself that this is where I need to be.

I open the car door.Its ten minutes until my scheduled appointment.My mind is racing with my heart now.My hands are cold and clammy.I feel dizzy and the anxiety amplifies like a guitar at rock concert, over taking my body and my thoughts.”Get out of the car” I hear muffled by my own heart beat.Slowly I place my legs outside of the car door,placing my feet into the half melted mess of dirty snow.

The dirty grey snow under my feet sloshes and crunches.It sounds much louder to me now then it normally does,almost too loud as my brain cannot process much else right now.I walk as lightly as I can as to not crunch the snow any more than necessary, though I fail, and I hear myself thinking how fat I must be to make so much noise.I continue lightly walking up the ramp until I am met with a purple door, adorned with a seasonal floral wreath and a welcome sign.

I begrudgingly place my hand on the golden door knob, with wear spots, where other people who have dysfunctional brains have done the same.Somewhere in my mind knowing I am not the only person to come here brings me a small sense of security as walk into the office and approach the receptionist.

The carpet,a dingy navy blue.Chairs set in a row, that appear as though from a talk show, with the strait backs, and the scratchy fabric,worn down where people have sat.The smell of cleaners and old books fills the air as I take a deep breath before telling the receptionist my name.She informs me it will be about five minutes,smiles politely and gestures to the scratchy worn chairs.I turn around to face a small room of people.Sat a seat apart from one another.I join them, as my anxiety starts to increase again,and I am now left sitting,waiting with my thoughts.

I sat, for what seemed like an eternity, and was startled by a voice calling my name.I look up for the first time since sitting down to see my new therapist.Shes older.Well dressed in what resembles slightly a grandmothers attire.Her hair curly and light brown with flecks of silver.Calm.Shes so calm I think to myself as she gestures for me to follow her down the narrow white hall.

We reach the end of the narrow white hall, it smells of lavender.Its a strong perfume smell, I instantly relate this to those little wax melting pots you set on the table.She directs me to the right down another hall.It seems brighter in this hall.The smell of the lavender wax melt increases, as we approach an open door way to a side room.

We enter the room to the side of the bright hall.The smell of lavender now over powering, and the soft glow in the corner proves I was indeed right,it was a wax melt pot with a small light.The whole room is dim.She gestures for me to sit on a big grey sofa, as she herself sits in an adjacent rocking chair, placing her thermos gently on the table beside her and crossing her legs before reaching for a clip board.She tacks the yellow legal pad to the top of the clip board , clicks her pharmaceutical pen, tilts her glasses and looks at me.I try not to make eye contact and she asks how I am.I don’t answer.

She asks me again, how I am, now slightly tilted towards me from her chair.My brain races as I have a million thoughts racing in my head. I think to myself “why is she asking me, I wouldn’t be here if I was doing fantastic” , and in a hushed tone, as if afraid to hear my own voice, I manage to say “I’m fine”.

She nods and sits back into her chair once again. I can tell from the slight frown on her face that she knows I’m not fine.I choose not to acknowledge that though, thinking to myself “I am fine , I always am” , and then my thoughtS drift away and I sit there staring at the wall, she staring at me,in silence.