I held my breath and walked in.
There is just something about its smell that always makes me feel uneasy; reminding me of the times I’ve cried to and from the second floor.
The elevator bounced when it stopped and the doors slid open. I made my way down the corridor and made a right hand turn to suite 269.
The same path I’ve walked for 3 years.
I did a quick survey of the room when I entered and took a seat that was sandwiched between two very anxious women. I could tell by the way their feet were tapping and how their hands nervously fidgeted in their purses and were wringed over and over.
A tall man and woman walked in shortly after. The woman’s eyes widened when she saw that the room was now standing only. She sighed then said:
“I guess that this isn’t a good day to have agoraphobia or claustrophobia.”
The small room chuckled in unison then quickly returned back to the awkward silence.
Dr.B poked his head out of the door from time to time calling us in one by one.
Then it was my turn.
I had really wanted to tell him that I was fabulous, but I wasn’t.
The anxiety from the holiday chaos still loomed heavily in my chest.
And there residing deeply in the back of my mind was the intense fear that the very ground upon which I worked so hard to stand on, would crumble if one more thing had happened.
I shifted my back brace under my wool coat and eased my way onto the plaid sofa. Dr. B pulled up my file on the computer and I began telling him all that I could remember that had happened. When I stopped to take in a cleansing breath, he swung his chair away from the computer. He clasped his hands behind his head, leaned back deeply and said:
“You’re a lot better.”
“What?” I said quizzically.
“Will things die down in the next few days? Weeks?”
“I hope so. I think so. Well, I really think that when it all settles, I’ll be ok.”
“Then you’re a lot better than last year at this time.”
“Ugh, last year.”
“Last year, this would have killed you.”
His statement, a revelation of sorts, hit my soul with ferocity.
I don’t think I said much of anything after that.
For the first time in what seemed like forever, I left his office with a smile.
My feet lighter than air.
I got into the elevator and cried.
Not because I was sad.
But because I was happy.
The events that erupted over the last few weeks were akin to a strong current that pulled at my feet; dragging me back into Shit’s Creek.
But instead of sinking…
I swam as hard as I could.
“Last year, this would have killed me.”
When I made it home, Chunky wrapped his arms around my leg, looked up at me and said:
“Momma, did the doctor fix you for today? Did he make you better?”
I took in a big breath and smiled.
“Almost kid. Almost.”
*Lyrics on photo Shake It Out – Florence + The Machine