I made my way inside, took the intake forms from the receptionist, and sat down while I waited for Estelle—my new therapist—to see me.
I tried to detach myself as I answered each question, tried to ignore the shame I felt for coming here. It grew as I selected each symptom, because until now I'd never realized just how bad I was.
I'd thought my headaches were normal, even my heart palpitations, and shortness of breath. It never occurred to me that regular people didn't experience those things daily like I did.
It made me feel like a failure.
"I remember when I had to fill one of those out. It sucked."
I jumped at the voice next to me. I never heard her come in or a door open or close. The woman was beautiful, tall with long flowing blonde hair and crystal-clear blue eyes.
I should have noticed her, but I guessed I was too focused on the intake chart and my overwhelming thoughts to pay attention.
I couldn't afford to let myself get carried away with my thoughts like that again. I needed to stay alert for Marco and I, for our families. Felipe might try something again at any time.
"I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry." Her smile was warm, kind, and disarming.
I sat back in my chair trying to calm my nerves. "No, it's all right."
"Do you mind if I sit beside you?"
The entire lobby was empty with more than enough chairs for her to sit somewhere else. But maybe she was just chatty and needed someone to talk to.
I didn't really want to hold a conversation with anyone, but I shook my head. "No, go ahead."
"Thanks." She sat down, then turned to me. "I have a little bit of an agenda for coming over here."
I didn't expect her to be blunt.
"You remind me of myself when I first came in here."
"I do?"
"Yes, nervous, not wanting to be here, like you're ready to bolt at any second."
My eyes widened, and she laughed.
"You're good at hiding it but… I think when you've gone through certain things and responded to them in a similar way, it makes it easy to spot those same behaviors in other people."
I wasn't sure what to say to that. Knowing a stranger could see through me so easily felt… invasive. Not in a way that was uncomfortable; more like someone revealing their mask to me and asking me to reveal my own.
The thought of doing so made me vulnerable, pathetic, something I hated feeling.
I didn't like to wallow in my pity. I didn't want to share my story. And I didn't think anyone else could relate to me—especially not a woman like her.
She was glowing, had a beautiful wedding ring on her finger, and seemed like she had her life together.
That wasn't me.
I could never be that, no matter how much I acted otherwise, something that would be far too apparent to her if I accepted the olive branch it felt like she was extending.
She rested her head back against the wall. "I've been seeing Estelle now for about six years. There was a time when I thought I'd always be that person. That I'd always be weak, allow others to walk over me for the sake of upholding peace. That I'd always be willing to sacrifice myself for others. I thought that was the single good quality I had, the only thing I was good for. I'd happily be a punching bag if it meant taking care of those I loved. It didn't matter if I lived in fear, even if I didn't survive, as long as they were all right." She looked around the office. "When I first came here, I thought it was a waste of time. How could anyone relate to the way I was feeling?" Her eyes moved to mine. "Then Estelle asked me if I always felt like I needed to be the hero for everyone else, and I broke down crying."
I tightened my grip around the pen in my hand. "I don't feel like I need to be the hero," I whispered.
One of her eyebrows rose. "Really? You don't feel like you have a responsibility to everyone else? That you can't ever actually be the person you want to be? That you can't let your walls down or let people inside because if you do, they'll see you for who you think you are—which is probably the names of all the absolute worst things anyone has ever called you?"
Each of her questions flayed me open and showed my deepest, darkest fears—and I trembled from the accuracy of her words.
