“You are.” Her voice was measured, but I couldn’t look up at her. I was worried she would say the words I couldn’t hear.
“And I’m miserable! I’m miserable in Knoxville. I’m miserable here. I just want to be ... normal. And I can’t. I just can’t.” My head fell down to the table as the weight of it all hit me.
I’d tried to get it together before this appointment, but I couldn’t. I was mortified. Sad. All of it, and none of the emotions would go away. Iwantedthis. So why couldn’t I do it?
“Piper, youaredoing everything you can.” Scarlett spokeslowly, something she always did when she wanted to get her point across. “I’ve seen you go out to bars, move to a new city, and face this the best you can. You’re brave.”
“So, why is it not getting better?”
Scarlett took a breath. “It’s very possible that this is a chemical imbalance, as anxiety often is.”
My eyes squeezed shut again. So was that it? I justcouldn’tdo this? I couldn’t ever let people touch me? I couldn’t ever find a partner or have kids?
“I’m screwed then.” My voice cracked. “Amazing.”
“No, you’re not. Do you remember when we first started and we discussed medication for your anxiety?”
I paused. The second she’d suggested it, I’d shaken my head and told her it wasn’t for me.
“Yes,” I replied after a moment. “I said I wasn’t interested.”
“And I respect that, but we never discussed why.”
I swallowed, body tense as I answered. “I want to do this on my own.”
“And do you think medication means you’re not the one doing it?”
“Well, no. But it’s ...” I paused, searching for words. Scarlett raised her eyebrows. Usually, I didn’t struggle with knowing what to say. “It’s a substance.”
“That’s one way of looking at it. Is that your issue with it?”
“I don’t want to need anything to exist. My dad used way too many things to forget, often with terrible results. After seeing that, I can’t follow in those footsteps.”
“That makes sense,” she replied. “But there’s one issue. The goal of medication isn’t to make anyone forget anything. It’s a tool.”
“But it would numb it.”
“That’s not what it should do,” she replied. “The goal is tohelp you function. Would you call what you do now functioning?”
I wished I could fight her on it, but I couldn’t. “No.”
“You need help. That’s why you’re talking with me. And you’ve done the best you can.”
“And it’s not enough.”
“This isn’t a failure,” Scarlett said. “I need you to know that.”
“My whole adult life feels like a failure.” My voice rose in pitch as I said it. “I hear you, I do. But this fear just feels like it’s getting worse. I’m so scared.”
“It’s a change,” she said softly. “That’s always scary.”
“I just ... I can’t be like my dad, Scarlett. Ican’t.”
“Let me ask you something,” she said. “Did your father go to therapy?”
That finally got me to look up. “No.”
“Did he go to a doctor to get what he used?”
