therapy session

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
story about a teenage girl talking to a therapist about parents divorcing and other tough times.

Submitted: January 08, 2017

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Submitted: January 08, 2017

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I walked into Dr. Johnson’s office slowly. I didn't’t really want to go. It was my mom’s idea. She thinks I’ve been different since the divorce. She says I’ve been more quiet and distant. I have no idea how she would know the first thing about me because she hardly pays me any attention. But I did as she wanted. It was either a therapist or a counselor. The counselor would have been someone I knew, which was entirely what I didn't’t want. And a therapist sounded more interesting, so I thought it could be cool. All I really expected was the phrase “and how does that make you feel?” Boy was I wrong.

As soon as I sat down on the comfy leather chair, Dr. Johnson got right in the questions.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

This was going to be a long session. “Oh I’m doing good how about you?” I replied.

“I'm great. Now why are you here?”

“My mom kinda wanted me to come here.” I told him how she thought I was ‘quiet and distant’.

“Well, do you feel like you are quiet and distant?”

“In a way yes, but not enough to come here.”

“What do you mean?”

“That's a little problem, an easy fix. She shouldn't have spent a lot of money to make me talk.”

“I can see that.” I just nodded. “So why do you feel like you are quiet and distant?”

“You want the whole story? Its pretty long.”

“That's what I'm here for.” Dr.. Johnson said. His look of genuine care never left.

“Whelp, here goes.” I took a deep breath while I decided on where I should start. “When I was in 8th grade my parents split. I can’t tell you what it was like before because I can’t remember. I don’t remember being in the same house or going places together, nothing. I was like 13. I don’t know. The only reason I cried about it was because I heard them fighting. I mean arguing. And then when she would explain why they were getting a divorce all her reasons and crying made me cry. But when my dad left he was gone for good. He didn't leave town, but he never talked to us. I didn’t really care, it was just weird when people talked about their families and stuff. Oh by the way I’m 17 now, I don’t know if that’s in your little folder but yeah. So I’m going on my third year of high school without my dad in the picture. It’s been totally fine. I have days when I miss having a dad there, but not my actual dad. I have days where I get in moods where I don't talk for a while. But I’m a teenage girl so I thought it was pretty normal. But my mom expects so much from me. All because I was apparently so smart when I was little. Now it isn’t hard to get A’s, but the extra work it takes to be on top just isn’t really my thing. And she wants me to be perfect. How much time do we have left?

Dr. Johnson opened his coat and looked at a small clock with a chain on it. What do you call those? “We’ve got about 30 minutes.”

“Okay. Well yeah my mom wants me to be perfect. Like she wants me to be valedictorian. That used to be my goal, until I found out that there is actually more than being the best at everything. And that there are many people better than me. But yeah that's kinda where I’m at right now. I’m quiet because I feel no need to talk. What's the use if she doesn't listen? I’m distant because theres’ no need for me.”

Dr. Johnson looked at me confused. “What do you mean theres no need for you?” Well there it is.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” I said.

“What do you mean ‘like that’?

“I didn't mean it like the depressed suicidal thoughts.”

“I didn't mean that either. I want to know what you did mean.” Dr. Johnson had a good way of getting himself out of a hole.

“I meant why should I, for instance, sit in the living room with everyone if I am legitimately not needed there. I’m just taking up space.” I explained.

“Do you see how I might think that you mean it ‘like that’?”

“Look, I don’t need anti-depressants.”

“I wasn’t going to--”

“Dr. Johnson, do you think I need this? That I need you?”

“Could you elaborate?”

“Do you think I need therapy?”

“Do you think you need therapy?”

“No but I’m asking you what you think.”

“I think it’s up to you and what you want.”

I sat there for a second. “I don’t know what I want.”

He nodded and looked at his time thingy again. “Well, why don’t you think about it, and on Thursday you can tell me. Sound good Alex?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Dr. Johnson nodded, and smiled as he walked me to the door.


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