I felt sick to my stomach as I drove to my first appointment with a psychologist.  I wondered as I parked my car if other people could tell where I was headed.  Did I look like something was wrong with me?  The parking lot also served a dentist’s office and property management company, so I told myself I could just as easily be going to one of those.  As I checked in with the receptionist, I tried to determine if she thought something was weird about me.  I wondered if she’d ever had anyone lose it, completely freak out in the waiting room.  I considered doing something myself, certainly felt like screaming, but instead sat quietly, my numb sweaty hands folded politely in my lap.

After a short wait, Dr. P. showed me into her office.  I sat in a puffy blue recliner across from her desk.  A fountain bubbled on top of a bookcase, and a scented candle burned on her desk.  One of the first things she asked me was if I had been dreaming more or less than usual.  I had to consider the question for a minute, then had to answer, “I haven’t really been dreaming much lately.”  She scribbled something on her clipboard and I twisted my wedding ring around my finger and tried to remember to breathe.  Out of nervousness and a desire to break the silence, I added, “That’s weird.  I hadn’t really noticed or thought about it until you asked.”   

© Salahub 2003