“Alright, hon,” she says, pointing to the page on top. “If you wouldn’t mind filling out this intake form, and we’ll bring you back in a few minutes. Have a seat anywhere that’s open.”
“Thanks,” I manage. Clipboard clutched to my chest, I slowly turn to face the room. There are a few other students sitting on the couches, staring down at their phones, but no one pays meany mind. There’s no judgement or even curiosity, and for that I’m grateful.
I do my best to fill out the paperwork, but as my pen scrapes the page, I feel like I’m floating, out of body. My hands shake, my foot jiggles, and my knee keeps bobbing up and down, unable to stay still. I bite my nail between my teeth, trying to convince myself not to walk out of here right now and just take the failing grade.
What if the counselor laughs in my face?
What if she thinks I’m here because of some kind of ploy not to fail my class?
What if I get in that room and nothing comes out?
Or worse, what if I do open my mouth, and she blames me for everything?
Still, I scribble in my medical history and my family’s medical history and copy info off the insurance card Mom gave me when I first left for school. When I come to the question,what brings you to the SSC?I can’t decide what to write. It’s hard to put what I’ve been dealing with into words, so I simplify it and write,depression and anxiety.
Then, I circle words based on how I’ve been feeling and how often.
I am angry, irritable, hostile:often
I have excessive feelings of guilt:often
I notice changes in my sleep patterns:often
Normal, daily tasks require more effort:often
I have discomfort in social situations:often
I am experiencing recurring, distressing thoughts about a trauma:
I hesitate over the page. The pen wobbles in my hand. Before I can overthink it, I circle a word.
Always.
I return the form to the desk when I’m done, and then I sit back down.
I wait, counting the pictures on the wall, the patterns in the rug, the leaves of the fern in the corner, the scuffs on my sneakers, the?—
“Ivy Combs?” comes a female voice, and my head jerks up. An older, dark-haired woman stands in the doorway, and she smiles at me. I can’t make myself smile back, I just can’t, but I do make myself stand up. She sticks out her hand for me to shake, so I do. “I’m Deborah. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ivy. Are you ready?” I swallow, nerves twisting my stomach, and force myself to nod. Her eyes are kind. Empathetic. She motions me through the doorway, and her voice is gentle when she says, “Follow me.”
She guides me down a hallway and into the second door on the left. The room is small, but cozy, and painted a serene, forest green. There are plants in the corner, and an intricate, woven rug on the floor. A candle burns on the table in the middle, scenting the room in vanilla.
“Take a seat wherever you feel comfortable,” Deborah says, gesturing vaguely at the room.
There are three options available to me—a couch and two chairs. I opt to sit on the right side of the couch, and she takes the chair opposite. It seems very…casual. I expected something out of the movies—a long, leather futon I’d have to lie on while she shrunk my head, maybe.
Once we’re seated, Deborah smiles at me again, but it’s not enough to make me relax. “How are you doing today, Ivy?” sheasks, and I’m surprised that she seems genuinely interested in the answer.
I tuck my hands between my knees, unsure of how to sit. How tobe.“Um, I’m fine,” I tell her, even though it’s the furthest thing from the truth.
She nods in understanding and looks down at the papers in her lap. “I took a look at the chart you filled out. This is your first time at the Counseling Center at Stratus?”
I nod and tell her, “Yes.”
“And is this your first time in counseling?”
“Yes,” I say again.
She doesn’t react to this information. Just smiles that same warm smile as before. “Well, I’d like to welcome you to your first therapy session and commend you for taking this step. It takes a lot of courage to reach out for help, and my goal is to provide a space where you can feel safe, heard, and supported. I would love to spend our time today getting to know you better, as well as hear some of your reasons for seeking out counseling. I like to keep my sessions casual, and I want you to feel free to express anything that’s on your mind or speak up at any point if there is something specific you’d like to discuss. By the end of our time today, I hope to talk about some of the goals you might have for therapy.”
