The Perfect Storm

Perfect Storm

"Recently, someone told me, 'We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.' It's a quote by E.M. Forster."

So, here I am... Twenty-five years old, and my life finally makes sense. I am proud of the friends I have, and a love that consumes every part of me. I never thought that I would fall in love the way I did, but life is unexpected in many ways. I have been working as a photographer for years, and my business is just now amounting to something special. But even with everything falling into place, I can't shake this feeling that something bad is going to happen. It's like this shadow following me, lurking behind every corner.

Around every corner, someone dies or gets hurt. What makes me any different from any other twenty-five-year-old girl in this town? Why do I get to survive my ordeal when others don't? The life I had planned for me was always to grow up happy, go to college, fall in love. But life had a different plan for me. To explain, I have to go back to when it all began... high school."

I let out a big sigh, shifting uncomfortably in the chair, and prepare myself to tell my life story to a stranger-again. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I was supposed to still be seeing Dr. Hughes, but she quit on me. And now, here I am, starting all over with someone new. Great.

"Ava, you know we only have ninety-minute sessions, right?" the therapist says, interrupting my thoughts, her tone professional but warm. Her eyes show understanding, but I can't help feeling defensive. I eye the clock-ninety minutes sounds like a lifetime and a blink at the same time.

"I know," I say with a sigh. "It's just... I don't know how to condense the mess that is my life into ninety minutes. I barely scratched the surface with Dr. Hughes before she bailed on me." My voice is sharper than I intend, but I can't help it. Abandonment's never been my favorite theme.

The therapist nods slowly, not phased by my tone. "I know it can be tough, especially with everything you've been through. I read your file, and it's clear you've had a lot to process lately-especially after your recent breakdown." She pauses, watching my reaction carefully. "You don't have to rush through it all today. Let's just start where you're comfortable."

I bite my lip, fighting the urge to snap. "Dr. Hughes thought she could handle me too, but she quit. What makes you different?" I blurt out before I can stop myself. Yep, we're off to a great start.

The therapist's expression softens. "I'm sorry you feel abandoned. I can imagine that wasn't easy, especially after such a difficult time. But I'm here to help. I'm not going to quit on you, Ava. That's not how I work."

I sit back, crossing my arms defensively. "It wasn't just a 'difficult time.' I had a full-blown breakdown. Bipolar disorder isn't exactly a 'rough patch.' One minute I'm fine, and the next, I'm in pieces. I scare people off."

"You didn't scare me off," she replies gently, leaning forward. "I understand how challenging it can be. I've worked with many clients who have bipolar disorder. It's not easy, but it's also not something that defines you completely. I want to understand what you've been through, Ava, so we can work together to help you manage it."

Her calmness unnerves me. It's not that I want her to run, but... I almost expect it at this point. Everyone does. I let out a long breath, feeling my body tense with frustration.

"Fine," I mutter. "But don't say I didn't warn you. My last breakdown wasn't just a bad day. It was months of blackouts-like I was there, but I wasn't really there. I was just...gone. Everything I did, everything I said-it's like it wasn't even me. And the worst part? When it finally ended, I didn't remember a damn thing." My voice cracks, and I hate it.