To be Frantastic

Session #1: Diagnosis

-"So, Connor"—said Dr. Kellerman—", from this moment on, we are commencing our first therapy session. It will all be recorded, just like our previous encounter, on tape. And like this we will be working things out, step by step. Sounds good to you?"

As I listened absent-minded, I could notice several elements in the office: the sound of a ticking metronome, a silver lining that beamed through the window, illuminating the lady0's red hair and a strange smell, like what you would expect for a bathroom to smell like. I was no longer sitting across the desk, I was lying on the especial bed-chair like thing, and the doctor was sitting down beside me, with her notebook and a pencil, ready to write down whatever came to my mind.

-"Yes"—I finally answered—", sounds good to me."

-"Alright, then... let's begin."

She set the metronome into motion, and the video camera was taping. I felt strangely watched.

-"I think we should start"—she said—"by introducing ourselves. I'll go first. My name is Daphne Rachel Kellerman; I am 33 years old, I am a psychiatrist here in Tall Woods Hospital, Los Angeles California. I have studied medicine in Oxford and I specialize in young adult therapy, dealing with depression and anxiety. Now, it's your turn."

-"... My name is Connor Franta, I have just turned 21 years old. I make comedy videos for a living; I upload them on the web page called YouTube. Before that, I was accepted into NYU, but I never actually went. I am from Minnesota, but I currently live in LA and I share a house with three other guys. Together with other two friends we have an online channel called our second life."

-"Why do you think you are here, Connor?"

-"I... I honestly don't know... I thought I was doing fine... many exciting things were starting to happen for me and the guys... my channel is growing, I am getting more recognition and all, and now I live in LA, it's one of my dream cities... but... even when everything was supposed to be going great until... until suddenly it wasn't."

As I spoke I could hear the pen quickly drawing conclusions over the paper, expectantly, writing down every single part of me that was wrong.

-"Would you say that your channel, the one you call our second life, is important to you?"—she asked.

-"Why... of course. I mean, that's what got me as far as I am now in YouTube. Without it, neither of my channels would have gotten enough promotion, I guess..."

-"Don't you think that your achievements are more personal rather than due to the channel?"

-"Hahahaha... I... I highly doubt that..."

-"Why is that?"

-"Because... because there is nothing special about me."

Dr. Kellerman stopped writing down and took a good look at me. She was observing with a strange expression on her face. I still can't find the correct words to describe it. It's a strange mix of curiosity and understanding. Not much happened during the rest of the session, besides a couple more general questions about my daily routine, and the eventual medical check she did give me. By the end of the session, she gave me a signed paper with a strange name on it I have never seen before.

-"What... what is this?"—I asked.

-"That, Connor, is your diagnosis."

I took a good look at it. So this is what was dragging me down. It's funny, how something that should have been so obvious seemed so incomprehensible to me. I don't think I'll ever be able to pronounce the name of that medication. She handed me over a tiny orange flask, filled with capsules that were colored yellow and red. Antidepressants.

-"Those pills"—Dr. Kellerman said—"Are to be taken only once a day, Connor. Once. And only twice a week, one on Monday mornings and one on Thursday nights. You are not to take any more pills throughout the day or the week."

-"I understand..."

-"The pills are not the answer, Connor."—she added—"They are means to get to the solution of your problem. Depression is not about drugs, self-harm or being sad. Depression is being unmotivated, to lose your will to function every day. These pills are only going to help you to regain some of the enzymes that will stimulate your senses. Little by little, they will help. But that is not the only thing we will have to do."

I took the flask and saw the pills inside. They were not the answer, they were just means to get to the answer. They were temporary. I was not going to lose against a flask of pills.

-"Starting next week"—she said—"you will come here every Tuesday and every Saturday. Each day I'm going to ask you things that will help me learn more about you, and hopefully you will learn more about yourself in the process. Now here's your assignment..."

-"Assignment?"

-"Certainly. This is something you have to get done for next Tuesday."

-"Ok... so... what is it?"

-"It's very simple. You must think about five different things, and once you come here, I want you to tell me what those five things are."

-"That sounds odd..."

-"I wasn't finished: the five things you have to tell me are things that make you especial."

I looked at her in astonishment, as a smirk drew across her face.

-"Next Tuesday, you are not leaving my office without at least five good things about you, Connor."