"A Long Road to Follow" Part 4
Abby paced impatiently outside of the therapist's office. "I don't want to be here," Abby thought. She was beginning to regret her decision to come. "I really don't think that this will help. What is this going to do for me?" Abby continued to keep her thoughts to herself. She sat on one of the uncomfortable chairs in the waiting area, and filled out the form that had been left for her. A few minutes later, the door opened.
"Are you Abby Lockhart?" A middle-aged woman poked her head out of the door.
"Yeah, that's me."
"Why don't you come on in?"
Abby entered the room and looked around. Lots of books lined the shelves of the room. There were two comfortable looking leather chairs and a couch. Abby handed the clipboard and form to the woman, and chose one of the chairs to sit in.
"I'm Darlene King. It's really nice to meet you, Abby." She looked down at the form Abby had filled out. "Your mother is Bipolar?"
"Mmm-hmm." Abby looked down at the floor.
"It's okay Abby. It's just helpful to know if there is any history that can impact your mental health. Do you know anything about your father? I noticed that you left those spaces blank."
"I haven't seen my father since I was seven years old. As far as I know, he has no history of mental illness. Unless you consider marrying my mother the act of a mentally ill person."
"Um-hmm. He's still living?"
"As far as I know. I haven't tried to get in touch with him in years."
"You have tried to get in touch with him before?"
"Yeah. Before I got married. I had this fantasy notion that I would have my whole family at my wedding. Didn't work out that way, though."
"I'm sorry to hear that. I see that you're also a recovering alcoholic. How long have you been sober?"
"Five, almost six years."
"So, Abby, I know that we talked about this a little on the phone, but tell me, what brings you here today."
"My boyfriend has been begging me to talk to a therapist because I won't talk to him."
"Why won't you talk to him?"
"Because I don't want him to know the stuff that's bothering me."
"Why not? He must care about you a great deal if he's encouraging you to talk to a therapist?"
"Because I don't think he can understand. He and I have lived very different lives."
"Is there someone else that you have talked to? A friend perhaps?"
"Yes."
"So there are people that you think can understand?"
"Yes."
"Why don't you think that your boyfriend can't understand?"
"I don't know. Isn't that what I'm paying you for?"
"You're paying me to help you find the answers, not to provide them for you. Only you have the answers."
Abby rolled her eyes, in her typical style. "This is really stupid. I don't like to share my problems. I like to keep them to myself."
"If that were true, you wouldn't share them with some friends. Do you not trust your boyfriend?"
"I trust him. I just don't want him to know some things about me. Shouldn't there be some mystery in a relationship?"
"I think that mystery in a relationship has more to do with not sharing our bathroom habits than with not sharing our fears and hurts."
"Whatever."
"Look Abby, nobody is forcing you to be here. I think that you can benefit from our sessions. I think that you can not only learn to communicate with your boyfriend, but I think that you can learn to feel better about yourself. I think that you need to do this as much, if not more, for yourself than for your boyfriend."
Abby sat in silence.
"We're out of time for today. Will I see you again next week?"
"Yeah, I'll be here," Abby said softly.
"Well, in that case, I'll see you then."
"Thanks." Abby got up and let herself out of the room.
Abby decided that she needed to talk a walk to clear her head. She headed to the park where she and her mother had been walking not to long ago. "I like being alone." Abby said it to herself, as if she was trying to convince herself. "I don't need anyone. I don't have to talk to anyone." Abby repeated this mantra over and over again, as tears streamed down her face. Going to therapy had brought up far more for Abby than she had anticipated.
Abby headed home. Even though it was spring, it was cold out. She needed to go home and think.
Abby paced impatiently outside of the therapist's office. "I don't want to be here," Abby thought. She was beginning to regret her decision to come. "I really don't think that this will help. What is this going to do for me?" Abby continued to keep her thoughts to herself. She sat on one of the uncomfortable chairs in the waiting area, and filled out the form that had been left for her. A few minutes later, the door opened.
"Are you Abby Lockhart?" A middle-aged woman poked her head out of the door.
"Yeah, that's me."
"Why don't you come on in?"
Abby entered the room and looked around. Lots of books lined the shelves of the room. There were two comfortable looking leather chairs and a couch. Abby handed the clipboard and form to the woman, and chose one of the chairs to sit in.
"I'm Darlene King. It's really nice to meet you, Abby." She looked down at the form Abby had filled out. "Your mother is Bipolar?"
"Mmm-hmm." Abby looked down at the floor.
"It's okay Abby. It's just helpful to know if there is any history that can impact your mental health. Do you know anything about your father? I noticed that you left those spaces blank."
"I haven't seen my father since I was seven years old. As far as I know, he has no history of mental illness. Unless you consider marrying my mother the act of a mentally ill person."
"Um-hmm. He's still living?"
"As far as I know. I haven't tried to get in touch with him in years."
"You have tried to get in touch with him before?"
"Yeah. Before I got married. I had this fantasy notion that I would have my whole family at my wedding. Didn't work out that way, though."
"I'm sorry to hear that. I see that you're also a recovering alcoholic. How long have you been sober?"
"Five, almost six years."
"So, Abby, I know that we talked about this a little on the phone, but tell me, what brings you here today."
"My boyfriend has been begging me to talk to a therapist because I won't talk to him."
"Why won't you talk to him?"
"Because I don't want him to know the stuff that's bothering me."
"Why not? He must care about you a great deal if he's encouraging you to talk to a therapist?"
"Because I don't think he can understand. He and I have lived very different lives."
"Is there someone else that you have talked to? A friend perhaps?"
"Yes."
"So there are people that you think can understand?"
"Yes."
"Why don't you think that your boyfriend can't understand?"
"I don't know. Isn't that what I'm paying you for?"
"You're paying me to help you find the answers, not to provide them for you. Only you have the answers."
Abby rolled her eyes, in her typical style. "This is really stupid. I don't like to share my problems. I like to keep them to myself."
"If that were true, you wouldn't share them with some friends. Do you not trust your boyfriend?"
"I trust him. I just don't want him to know some things about me. Shouldn't there be some mystery in a relationship?"
"I think that mystery in a relationship has more to do with not sharing our bathroom habits than with not sharing our fears and hurts."
"Whatever."
"Look Abby, nobody is forcing you to be here. I think that you can benefit from our sessions. I think that you can not only learn to communicate with your boyfriend, but I think that you can learn to feel better about yourself. I think that you need to do this as much, if not more, for yourself than for your boyfriend."
Abby sat in silence.
"We're out of time for today. Will I see you again next week?"
"Yeah, I'll be here," Abby said softly.
"Well, in that case, I'll see you then."
"Thanks." Abby got up and let herself out of the room.
Abby decided that she needed to talk a walk to clear her head. She headed to the park where she and her mother had been walking not to long ago. "I like being alone." Abby said it to herself, as if she was trying to convince herself. "I don't need anyone. I don't have to talk to anyone." Abby repeated this mantra over and over again, as tears streamed down her face. Going to therapy had brought up far more for Abby than she had anticipated.
Abby headed home. Even though it was spring, it was cold out. She needed to go home and think.