I wrote this only a couple of hours after coming down from an autistic meltdown, so I wasn't in the best mental/emotional state.
Autumn's Speech
" Have you eaten at all today?"
Uggh. This crap again.
Whenever Dr. Hopper asks me this, I almost feel like breaking out my teenage rebel look. You know the look I'm talking about. Folded arms, a steeled jaw, pursed lips, a raised eyebrow.
As if to say, " Are you, like, clinically stupid?"
Sometimes I have to remind myself that I'm not fifteen anymore. But it is so damn hard. Most days I barely have the energy to fight it. All I can do is stare at myself in the mirror, while the voice tortures me. Uggh, that voice! It's been with me for so many years now that I can't remember a time when I didn't have it. It does nothing but hurl insults at me.
" Look at you, you filthy beast! Why would anyone want to hang around a fat cow like you?! You disgust me!"
Ehh…You get the picture. I do want to get better, though. It's why I'm here. And it can be a comfort. With Dr. Hopper sitting across from me in his fancy little armchair. His sleeves rolled up, his glasses perched on his nose, his umbrella by his side. I like it when he smiles. There's so much kindness there, and sympathy, that it's starting to break down the wall I've built up over the years. Not too long ago, I think it's finally made a difference.
Not a lot, mind you. Just enough for him to say, " I think we've made a breakthrough."
" Autumn?" he prompted.
I broke from my thoughts, startled. " Huh? Oh!"
" Umm…" Dr. Hopper began. He stole a glance at his notes, struggling to balance the ginormous binder on his knees. " Autumn, I know it's an extremely delicate question, but did you at least think about trying?"
A typical response to that would have been a defensive snap or a sarcastic drawl. Like the so-called 'hormonal teenager look' I was talking about earlier. But I just broke out into hysterics. Tears burning my cheeks, hair coming out in clumps. That's all I can remember right now, except for one thing. At some point during this fiasco, he had put his arm around me. Stroked my hair and my face to brush the tears away, shushing me every now and again.
" It's OK, it's OK," he kept muttering.
It's not every day I cry in front of another human being. Particularly about 'my troubles'. But I'm glad it was Dr. Hopper. That's why he should be nominated for the Best Psychiatrist Award. He's always there. It doesn't matter what mood we're all in or the time of day we have our crises. He always is just always there. On the other end of the phone. In our sessions. He won't ever abandon us, no matter how hard our journeys are. That is the best quality that a psychiatrist could ever possess. Thank you, Dr. Hopper. Thank you all.