Drugs From Within

One statement I was always told was “How did you know?” I have yet to come up with an appropriate response, which doesn’t make me sound like a complete asshole.

“Oh Mrs. Johnson, I just had a feeling.” or “I just did some research is all” Yea I don’t know if you could tell, but that’s a damn lie. There’s no way I can explain what some would call natural talent. My brain seems to be so in tune with human emotions and deliberately calculating the most possible hypothesis of what the absolute problem in a certain person’s life would be. Constant delusions, physically seeing your fears or some specific image everywhere you go? You’re a schizo. Feeling worthless, tired all the time? Moderate Depression or you have a case of intense laziness. Hate your arms and want them gone? It’s a rare case but classic Apotemnophilia. I didn’t just sit around and jerk off while getting a psychology degree from Stanford. Unlike most of the rich assholes, I had classes with. No, I fix people, I don’t assign them simple placebos and tell them to get “better”, and maybe hope they won’t wake up hating themselves every day. I take those broken pieces and try everything in my power to mend what’s broken, and slowly, but surely guide them back to a more stable state of mind.

I may charge a higher fee than most psychologists, yet they don’t do this from their own home office I’d wager. In my personal experience, I feel it’s better to connect with my clients in my own home, rather than some corporate-looking office, screaming “I WANT MONEY” Yea, money’s fun and all but when you’re truly hurting inside, and endlessly fail to find an escape, paper cash can be lost but it’s not worth throwing out your life-saving when a razor is to your wrist.

Everyone has good and bad days, obviously. It should be mentioned that my clients, in particular, have an exciting range to them. If I’m explaining it right, someone may come in thinking they have severe depression when in reality, they have the flu, or rather, this is a true story. A client comes in and seems fine, a little pale at most. They explain how they have been feeling, to start O’ding on my couch, and almost dying till the paramedics arrive. So I guess you could say I deal with every type of psychological and or physical issue, again I never dicked around in class.

My best friend, or as she would want me to refer to her, professionally as, “Dr. Claire Ph.D.” is the only other person I could ever talk to about anything regarding our profession, with my “client stories” as I call them. She’s a big help when it comes to more serious cases that I tend to get stumped on. She always says one or two ideas that get my brain to just click, and figure it out, never saying I was perfect, although sometimes I love to imagine I am.

Claire usually can be a huge help. Sometimes we just get attached to patients and truly want them to smile, or just be better in general. That is only with certain clients, the ones that you can’t help to see suffering in constant or even delusional despair, until you receive a phone call from the parents claiming their son, or daughter is no longer with us.

Of course, I talk as one would call a “big game”, it’s just acute narcissism on my part. Yes, professionally diagnosed. I tend to ponder about how we use our knowledge and skills on others, yet don’t look at ourselves and assess our own damage, our thoughts, and our emotions. To fix ourselves.

The leaves of virgin autumn had started to turn a pumpkin orange, and the air felt just right on my pale skin. I sat in my office chair and noticed a red convertible sitting out there, a car I had never recognized, just sitting in solace, under the soft sunlight. Looking down at my dark oak desk, pulling open the golden-plated drawers to fetch my patient schedule. Turning the yellowed pages to the month, and day of Autumn 15th, with no one scheduled for 4:30 that I could spot rummaging through these pages I’ve become so familiar with. Yet when I glance towards the analog clock on my wooden walls, it’s exactly 4:30 pm. Perhaps I forgot that I rescheduled Julie Mays again, or possibly I had a new patient.

I heard what seemed to be knocking, I had to double-check because this has been the lightest thumping sound I have ever heard coming from my front door.

I made my way to the door and was greeted with a blinding smile and the

most beautiful eyes.

This… is my patient? Why wasn’t she scheduled… What could she be hiding?

“Hi, you’re Dr. Thomas, right? I was told to come to 43-”

“Oh, why yes, you’re in the right place, nice to meet you- uh what’s your name miss?”

I had never felt this way looking at a client, I cut her off too quickly, and I- don’t make mistakes like this.

“Nice to meet you, Dr. Thomas, I’m Mabel.”

My coffee was still hot, and the steam radiated off of it. Yet when I took a sip of it, that burning sensation felt unreal, my mind seemed to be more focused on this client than any pain I could feel at that moment. My brain was preoccupied with her silky neon orange hair, or could it have been those crystal blue eyes that stared at the floor? I sat in these thoughts of her, that I almost forgot she was sitting right in front of me.

“So, um Mr. Thomas? Sorry to arrive unexpectedly like this.” Mabel spoke in a soft, well-mannered way, and fiddled with the rings on her fingers. She stared at the floor not making eye contact, a common sign of social anxiety, but my instincts tell me she was not here for that.

A nervous smirk arose from my dry throat “Ah, don’t worry about it Ms...Mable was it?”

She smiled and nodded carefully. “I was looking at your patient description here..and it seems that you listed, well nothing? So I must ask, what brings you into my office, Mable?” Mable bit her lip a bit, she looked around the room and focused on random objects, as if she was trying to craft her response so carefully as to try and get real help, yet not reveal the true thoughts in her head. She looked up almost wincing to make eye contact with me, then she finally spoke, although…hesitantly.

“Do you know the feeling, of when nothing is wrong, yet you feel your mind fighting itself, your chest being manipulated by your heart’s true feelings? For me, this is the only reality I’ve come to know.”

I sat momentarily, trying to analyze, and piece together her frail statement.

“Are you saying that... You feel as if it’s hard to distinguish your true feelings, or is it more that you know the truth but refuse to believe it?”

Mabel sat in deep thought, almost as if she wasn’t in this reality anymore. The thoughts in my mind were scattered, messy, and all over the place. Should I say something? Should I tell her my truth? Spit out the intrusive thoughts that seem to persist in my mind at a moment’s notice.

“Well, I guess that could be a simpler way of putting it, Mr. Thomas-”

“Please, call me TJ, at least that’s what my colleagues call me.”

“TJ, I like that name. Thank you.”

She weakly shed a smile from her small pale face, one that refuses to leave one’s mind.

The ticking of my analog clock filled the silence of the room, it seemed as if neither of us could sputter out a word. This was… unusual, as my normal clients would spout meaningless words for their entire session, to convince themselves they feel better, when I never had spoken for the hour and thirty minutes that they sat on my couch. I’ve noticed that certain people don’t always need a shrink to tell them something’s wrong, they tend to talk themselves into what’s truly wrong, yet I still get to write myself a paycheck at the end of the week. My sessions tend to end in a win-win scenario for both of us.

Mabel had finally broken out of her trance, frantically checking her watch, and looking back at me. I was still engaged in those blue eyes, trying to figure out her pain. Her voice almost sounded muffled.

“Oh gosh… I’m so sorry for taking up so much of your time Mr. Thomas, I should be going!”

I break out of my trance to stand up quickly.

“Uh- Don’t worry about it, Mabel. No extra charge will be added, I think we both got a little distracted.”

I felt a red rush come across my cheeks, with an involuntary smirk forming on my face.

Mabel grabbed her purse, and all of her personal belongings, almost rushing out of my office in shame. She was already in my hallway by the time I moved to the front of my desk.

Bzzt Bzzt

I noticed a slight buzzing noise and saw she had left her phone on my couch, I snatched up the device, she was receiving a call from “James”. The only thought that came into my adrenaline-filled head was who the fuck is James?

Slam! My door was slammed shut as quickly as I heard her small footsteps run down the hallway. How could she have already made it outside? I know my house isn’t the biggest but damn she’s fast.

I ran through the hallway, opening the door, to her already getting back into her car.

“MABEL! YOUR PHONE!” I yelled as loud as I could from across the street towards her, yet she was already speeding off.

Fuck, what am I supposed to do with this? I thought

I walked slowly back into my office, unable to get what had just happened out of my mind.

I set the phone down on my desk, put a sticky note on it, labeling it “MABEL”, sometimes I can be forgetful, don’t judge me.

-5 Hours Later-

The squeak from the cork on my bottle of whiskey was quick, yet it poured silently into my glass. The winter breeze was settling in, frosting my windows. All I could do was sit in my chair and think about her. Almost as if, I didn’t want her to leave. In her silent, thin frame came an aura of calmness and belonging. It was comforting.

These thoughts seemed to be overwhelming for me. I needed to get therapized. Knowing exactly the right person to ask, I reach past the bottle of whiskey, grab my phone, and open my messaging app.

“Hey, I had a surprise client today. She is going to be a challenge, there’s… just something about her”

-TEXT SENT 8:34 P.M.-

I figured I should text Claire to get some of her “thoughtful” insight into Mabel, just a second opinion you know? Nothing wrong with that.

“Oh, yea? What’s the shtick with this one TJ”

-CLAIRE’S TEXT WAS RECEIVED AT 8:42 P.M.-

“Well, I.. don’t know?”

-TEXT SENT 8:44 P.M.-

“The Genius psychologist TJ doesn’t know what’s wrong with a patient... Are you bullshitting me lol?

-CLAIRE’S TEXT WAS RECEIVED AT 8:46 P.M.-

“Do I seem like I’m bullshitting? I don’t know, she’s just different. I can’t wrap my head around her, the way she looked at me... I just can’t figure it out. I figured maybe you had some insight, oh wise one?”

-TEXT SENT 8:50 P.M.-

“I mean you looked at all the tell-tale signs correctly? Nail-biting, covering scars, and drowsiness? Looking for the telltale symptoms that are easily diagn-

Bzzt Bzzt Bzzt Bzzt

Reading Claire’s “wise messages” was interrupted by Mabel’s phone. I figured the battery had died already. Checking it would be breaking patient confidentiality. Eh, what the hell. I chugged the last of my whiskey, quickly grabbing Mabel’s phone to be greeted with my heart stopping, my mind going blank at the text messages she was receiving from this “James”. I glanced at the clock on my wall and it read 9:00 P.M.

“Hey, gorgeous. Pickup is ready,”

-Text received at 3:20 P.M.-

“Are you here yet??”

-Text received at 3:43 P.M.-

“Mabel, where the FUCK are you? I’m not waiting anymore HURRY UP.”

-Text received at 4:10 P.M.-

All of these texts were sent during our meeting, is this why she was so anxious for the entire session?

“Thanks for not showing up you stupid BITCH, I needed my shit. I’ll be at Ditzy’s in 5 min, you better fucking be there, same as last week. You know where it’s at.``

The last text was the most recent, I squinted at the time it was sent, and it read

-Text received at 8:55 P.M.-

Never had I felt my heart drop, nor had I felt this terror swell across my body before.

Without a second thought, I grabbed my coat and walked out of the door.