chapter 20: help
Mitsuha - 11 June
I was informed that I will be discharged today. I'll have to see a psychologist weekly after being discharged.
I feel so much more… secure about everything, knowing that people are going to be helping me get through this and that I was going to get seriously better. It's funny, now, to think that I once was so terrified of seeing a psychologist about my dreams, and that I even felt ashamed.
Today is the first step towards healing, where I'll be seeing a psychiatrist to get a diagnosis. To be honest, as of now I am a little apprehensive, afraid that they would just brush off my condition, just like Sayaka and Taki, What if they were doing this just to be nice? What if they still don't really believe me, and think that I'm crazy? I feel my inner panic start to build up, as my imagination makes me doubt absolutely everything.
"Ready to go yet, Mitsuha?" Grandma says, standing at the door. Despite my requests that I should go alone, Grandma is adamant about accompanying me to see the psychiatrist, and honestly, I don't regret letting her. I don't mind having some extra company.
As I got up, upon seeing her comforting smile, my tense body immediately began to relax. A surge of warmth and safety spread over me, as I recalled fond memories of Grandma taking care of me when I was sick, telling me that everything would be alright. With the knowledge that despite what other people think, my family wouldn't reject me, and would accept me, I left with Grandma to see the psychiatrist without worrying about the outcome.
We go to see the psychiatrist that the hospital has recommended us to go to. It's quite near my home and it's only a 15 minutes drive. Grandma offers some comforting words during the drive and wishes me all the best. I laugh.
"Grandma, it's not a job interview… It's just a therapy session," I say, laughing. Grandma, Yotsuha, Sayaka, and perhaps Taki were the only few people I was comfortable with talking to about the therapy session with. There are many implications of telling people that I go to therapy. I can imagine people bombing me with snide remarks about me being mentally unwell and other rude comments. I could also imagine them smothering me with pity, thinking that I was disabled, and useless because of it. The consequences wouldn't be very nice.
I enter the clinic, and I'm told to sit down in the seating area. It's quite nice, with a carpeted floor, and large armchairs. I see the many different rooms, some for psychiatrists, some for psychologists, and some just for the equipment. There isn't anyone else there and I'm the only one, so I make myself comfortable and Grandma does too, and I whip out my phone to check my messages.
Just a while later, the receptionist taps me on the shoulder and I look up instinctively.
"Your number is on the screen, you can go in now!" The receptionist tells me.
I stand up, a bit shakily, as I realise that I'm feeling very anxious and worried about the session. But that doesn't matter as Grandma gives me an encouraging nudge and grins widely at me, her smile saying, "Don't worry, I'm here. Come on, let's go in."
Feeling a little more relieved, I take a deep breath and we walk into the office.
