" Ellen, E-L-L-E-N", I sit back and tell the psychologist I was assigned to help talk through on life. You know, the usual thing a shrink would do? In a calm, soothing room In a relaxing loveseat, for I dream on to where it all went wrong. " So what brings you to this present day and situation you are in?", the dark haired woman asks me with a cold, stern tone in her voice. " Pardon?" " Honey, we ask everybody that. Just tell me how you are feeling?" " Oh...", my mouth freezes and I feel the tension in the room.
If anxiety had a climax, this would have been the breaking point. I've been to so many of these treatments over my issue with consumption and weight loss and they almost never work. Should I even try? Spilling onto constant tales of my depression and dysfunctions in life just seems a bit of stray. But the more I think about it the more my woman becomes impatient as she snaps her fingers in my face to grab my attention, " Hello? I've got a set schedule girl, you need to speak!" I glare at her intensely as I squint my eyes and let out a deep sigh and let it all out...
That was ten years ago when my life was a complete wreck: my family was misunderstanding, my depression engulfed my entire being and being labeled something I'm not apart of. Would you love me if you knew what effects me daily? Would you be bothered by my short blonde hair and curls? Silly things like that always rose above me and to now I wouldn't see why. I am beautiful, I am strong: It took the right program, the right people, and the consistency to keep a calm, happy attitude of life. But the youth home didn't help, it was the sour hearted woman.
Amelia Natherson: the mother of five hyperactive, fun-loving children with enough willpower to maintain them all. She was a single mother with a bit of spice, but a deep soul of compassion on the inside. With each word spoken she canceled it all and asked me the simple question, " Why are you upset?", she would continuously do this and I was unsure why. Eventually, it had frustrated me with each meeting she would do this and I demanded answers to why. But, she calmly responded, " I want to know why you're letting yourself be unhappy."
I made a puzzled expression but soon thought of it for a second, and as I thought long and hard about it, she gave pulled out a mirror from her purse. She held it out in front of me and asked what I saw, and then told me what her view of me was, " You are a strong, beautiful, independent woman, look how far you've gotten and how many times you broke. Here you are now though, gleaming to your reflection. Why are you upset?"
