Will I ever make it home....: Where'd she go?

Will I ever make it home....

Saturday, August 12, 2006

Where'd she go?

This is another entry for The S Project. It is partly FICTIONAL.......

"Hello, dear" I said. I always pronounced hello differently. Maybe it was the over emphazising on the hell part that made people's eyes dart nervously around. I stuck out my hand towards her. She flinched slightly, but took my hand and shook it lightly. Her eyes watched our hands meet, and she gave me a fake smile. It didn't even touch her eyes or cheeks. The muscles stretched up like curtains at a show. The eyes were timid, scared.

"Follow me this way, hun" I said. I tried to use a gentler voice. But I had a more direct approach when it came to talking to them. Who is them? You'll find out in good time, dear. Just wait. So, she begins to follow me down the halls turning and winding down to my small office. I gestured towards the chairs. "You can sit wherever you like," I said in a syrupy voice. Hmm, maybe too sweet, for she eyes flinched and she stared at me like a deer caught in the headlights. I smiled as she took a step forward looked around and started to remove her jacket. She put her file down on the table next to her, and was desperately trying to look around. She was looking for something of comfort. I cleared my throat and was about to commence my usual drawn out speech of ethics.

"Uhm, I don't know why I came here... I just feel so....so...sad. And it's so hard to like-hmm...to go on...and I don't know..." She exasperatedly blurted. I could see the weight being lifted off of her shoulders as she said it. She smiled once again in a neurotic manner. Her eyes darted this way and that. She once again scanned the room for comfort.

I introduced myself, we exchanged nuisances about weather, politics, religion. You have to build a trusting space for the patients we saw. They all range in severity! But eventually, I got her to warm up to me. I continued to question and prod. Jotted small notes in my file. I watched her responses to my questions, and her mannerisms. She was neurotic, depressed, and from the sound of our talks suffering from body issues. The way she knotted and tangled her hands, the way she couldn't make eye contact. Or the way she bit her lips, nervously. She shook her leg constantly. I didn't want to push too far, so I stayed in what I call a "Safe Zone".

The first few encounters were simple enough, we talked lightly for a half hour twice a week. She began to open up. Flourish. I could see the tears start, but her composure was shut off. She was trapped inside of herself and she wanted out. But something....always held her back. Eventually she began to trust me. We began to talk about her current life. How it made her feel. How she was coping with all that had been "dumped", as she put it, on her. The tears would flow freely now. She was angry, repressed, and depressed about her situation. She felt her station in life was making her feel miniscule. She spoke about her mother. By then it was an hour a day once a week.

It was a brisk morning and she came in for our weekly appointment. We had worked on her depression, things were looking less bleak for her. I had began to monitor her food intake, and had her see a nutritionist. I hadn't heard much about her family, much less her mother, but today something had set her off. She came in sat down quickly and began. The story was long, but informative. She thought it might be the root of the "problem" as she referred to her mental state.

"I always thought it was me...You know that I was somehow broken, or undone. Or hmm-whatever you want to call it. Like something was missing, but I think it was her all along. Like....as though it were....Oh, I don't know...what am I trying to say....It came to me last night...and it was like...click....there's your answer," She said excitedly. By this point in time her smiles were genuine, I had become accustomed to her inflections of her voice. She was honest, and had a sense of humor most would not understand. She went on trying to describe this so called epiphany about her mother. And I was waiting patiently for her to sort out her thoughts. Her progress was very quick, and she was doing much better now. She had begun to gain weight, and sleep better.

"...I guess....you know all the stuff she said all along, wasn't true. Like she can't unblur the line between reality and her lies. I guess she was just born that way....Or is it like....a learned attribute...is it....You know, like she was so unhappy with herself she had to do all those things to me....and be how she was to me...Because she was just wired that way," She stammered quickly. Her hands opened and closed and she gestured what she was trying to say with her body language. It was almost inconcivable that this was the same person that had walked in here so grimly four months before!

She hasn't come in for some time now. I saw her for a couple months after her grande epiphany. She had learned how to deal with her emotions on a smaller scale. I wonder, if she thinks about coming in, but hesitates. I haven't seen her in about 6 months. She had relayed information about finding someone she thought she was in love with. I guess they are happy since she hasn't come in here with a crushed heart. I am glad that her life is going better. I almost wish she would come in to let me know she is better.

We all have emotional glitches. We all experience bad times, bad things, and bad relationships. And we all need someone to lend us a helping hand when life becomes too much to bear. We all go through this life without instructions. It always is reassuring to know someone is willing to listen.

If only I had access to her mother. I would love to see if she really was born that way.

posted by The Devil @ 10:38 AM

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