My Saving Grace

September 30, 2013

Scott's P.O.V.

I sat in the waiting room, my foot impatiently tapping against the floor. The chair I was sat on was uncomfortable. The room I was sat in was too small. And I was almost positive that the woman behind the desk hadn't taken her eyes off of me from the moment I had entered the building.

Alex had insisted he come in with me, for support but I told him I would be fine. He told me that he'd wait in the parking lot though. I didn't want to inconvenience him but he said I wasn't so.... Maybe I really wasn't.

I looked around the reception. The walls were a lavender colour, calming but different. There was a row of chairs on either wall, which were white painted wood. On the third wall there were three book shelves. One was filled with novels. The second was filled with information on mental illnesses. And the third was filled with newspapers and magazines that looked extremely out of date, considering one had a picture of 1999 Britney Spears. Across from that was a desk that stretched across the fourth wall. Behind it sat the woman who had told me to sit down on one of the chairs. There was a door leading to what I assumed was the therapists office next to that desk.

I felt my phone buzz in my pocket and took it out to look at it. A text from Mitch. "How are you getting on? I'm at the studio right now with the others, talking about tour. You can come down when you're finished if you like. Love you."

I sighed. I wished I was there instead of in this too small reception, to this weird therapists office with the receptionist who hadn't stopped staring at me since I walked in the door. Why did my stupid head have to be so fucked up?! Why can't I be normal and not crazy!? Why did Alex find me the other day!?

My hand moved up to my head and roughly pulled on my hair. There was a familiar feeling building up in the back of my head. My thoughts were racing. My hands sweating. My breathing becoming erratic. I could feel that restricting sensation build up in my throat and lungs.

That was when I heard the door open. I looked up, only now realising that I was almost pulling my hair out. A teenager walked through the doorway, they were almost skin and bone, their clothes hanging off of their body awkwardly and their hair looking thin and patchy. The kid turned around and a woman emerged in the doorway.

"Thank you, Lisa." The kid said turning around and hugged the woman tightly.

"No problem, Sammy. You just keep to your list and don't hesitate to call me if you need me." Lisa said, letting the kid go and smiling. I sighed a little, she seemed nice.

Sammy nodded her goodbye and walked past me to the exit. Lisa looked up to me and smiled, she walked over and held out her hand. "You're Scott right?" She asked. I took her hand and she shook it. I nodded and hesitantly stood up. "I'm Dr. Lisa Brown. Would you like to follow me through?" She asked. I nodded again and followed her into the room.

The room had three chairs and two bean bags. The three chairs were situated haphazardly around a dark brown oak desk whereas the bean bags were in the corner underneath a bright window. On the other side of the room was a bookshelf. There were books and magazines and newspapers on the bookshelf as well as what looked to be toys and weirdly shaped objects.

"Sit wherever you want." Lisa told me. I looked around the room, my eyes scanning over each seat. My eyes hovered over the beanbags before I walked over to one of the chairs by the desk. I refused to look like a child.

Lisa smiled and sat down in the seat on the other side of the desk. "So, Scott. How are you?" She asked. I was slightly taken aback. That wasn't what I expected to be asked.

"I-I'm fine." I lied, swallowing hard.

"Okay. Now I want you to tell me the truth. Tell me how you really feel." She said. I stared wide eyed at her. How did she know? Of course she knows, she does this for a living, you idiot!

"I feel- I feel sad, anxious, scared, maybe a bit uncomfortable. I don't know why I said fine. In fact I'm as far away from fine as I can get... I mean, that's why I'm here. And now I'm rambling, I'm sorry." I said shutting myself up.

"No need to be sorry. That's good. It's good you told me these things.... Now first of all, every time I ask you how are you, I would like you to not use the word fine. Because no one is ever fine. They can be happy, sad, anxious, excited. There is so many other words you can use." She explained. I nodded, already relaxing at how she spoke to me. She spoke to me like I was human and not crazy.

"So tell me. Tell me about your life. Just know that you can tell me anything. Everything you say in here is 100 per cent confidential. It will not leave this room." She said.

"Where do I begin?" I asked her. My anxiety was on a high. I don't know why but I felt an overwhelming need to impress her. So that she wouldn't think I'm crazy. She already thinks you're crazy, idiot!

"Just start where you think is necessary. Your profession. Your age. Your life." She urged, smiling. I nodded.

"Well I'm twenty two. I'm a singer by profession. In an accapella group called Pentatonix. We won the sing off in 2011. I live with my best friend, Mitch. He's amazing. The best friend I could ever ask for. He is in Pentatonix with me. We've been friends for thirteen years. Um... I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety in 2010 when I tried to kill myself. I've struggled since then. I've been on anti depressants and anti anxiety pills for years but they just don't seem to work recently. About seven months ago I met a guy named Alex and I... Uh... I fell in love with him. He's absolutely the most beautiful, funny, loving, amazing guy ever. But that didn't stop the voices in my head and a couple of days ago I tried to kill myself. Because it all got too much. And Alex convinced me to get help. And so I'm here. For him." I explained.

"What are these voices saying?" She asked. I breathed deeply and tried to think.

"I don't know. They try to control me but once I'm out of the mood I can't really remember what they say to me." I explained. She nodded and wrote something down in a notebook. She then grabbed a post it note and began to write something on it.

"Now I want you to come back in a couple of days. I would like you to pick a notebook off of the book shelf over there. Pick which ever one you want." I nodded as she pointed over to the book shelf in the corner.

I stood up hesitantly and walked to the book shelf. There was an array of notebooks. There was every kind of style that you could think of. But my eyes landed on one that really stood out to me. It was off white and had sheet music the whole way across the cover. I smiled, picking it up and walking back over to the desk.

"So in this notebook I will ask you to write whatever you like, your thoughts, music lyrics and finally the homework that I give you." I nodded at her. I didn't see how this could help me but I guess she was a professional. "This week for your homework I will ask you to write down what your mind says when you feel down or have an attack. Then I want you to forget about them until you come back in here. And with this note book I want you to write as little or as much as you want!" She smiled.

She then took the notebook from me and stuck the post it note in the first page. She handed it back to me and stood. I stood after her walking to the door. "It was nice to meet you, Scott. I'll see you in two days?" She asked.

"Yeah, sure. Thank you Dr. Brown." I said.

"Please, call me Lisa." She smiled.

"Thank you Lisa." I corrected myself.

"No problem, Scott."

I then left walking out the door and to the reception and then through the door and down the corridor. I opened the notebook and lifted the sticky note. It read: you are wanted. I felt myself smile a little.

I then walked out the front door and immediately spotted Alex's car. I opened the car door and sat down in the passenger seat.

"How did it go?" He asked, leaning over the centre consul and kissing my cheek. The immediate word that I thought to say was 'fine'. But I thought about what Lisa said.

"It went well."