The first appointment

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Hi guys! It feels important to mention this here because of the subject matter, but I am in no way a mental health professional and this should not be used to self-diagnose. It is fully based on my own experience in the mental health system as a patient and a behavioral health evaluation sheet I found online. Seriously though mental health is so important and I highly encourage anyone struggling to seek help. I know it's completely terrifying if you have never been before or if you have been and it didn't work/you had a bad experience. But you should definitely keep trying because it makes SUCH a HUGE difference. Anyways, thanks for read, this just felt really important to put here! ❤️☺️
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I can't get myself to open the door. I've been standing in front of this building for at least ten minutes. I just can't get myself to open the door. All I have to do is walk in there and tell them I have an appointment. But I'm terrified because I know every step leads to another and each one scares the crap out of me. People like to say sometimes that the first step is the hardest, well all the steps after that seem just as bad to me. I need to go in or I know I'll be late.

Don't get me wrong, therapy always seemed like a good option for me. It's not that I have ever really been against it. I've just built it up in my head into this big thing. It has always felt like I should be able to fix my problems on my own, and like starting therapy was accepting I couldn't. So now, if I walk through that door, it feels like I have to face that I'm worse than I'm ready to admit to myself. It could help. I know it could. I just have to open the door and take the first step. I just, there's no describing this feeling. I hate that almost as much as the feeling itself. Not being able to put your finger on the thing being held over your head, only knowing it's there affecting you. Open the door. Open the door. Open the door. "Are you going in?" Turning behind me, I see a girl watching me block her entrance into the building. She looks around my age and seems very impatient.

"Oh right, uh, sorry. Yeah." Shifting aside, I grab the handle holding the door open for her. I let out a small breath following behind her into the building. Thank god for her. As embarrassing as that felt at least it would get me past this first step. She doesn't say anything else as she passes, and I'm grateful for that too. I wouldn't know how to have a conversation here, dancing around the air in the room and avoiding the obvious. Falling in line a little behind her, waiting to get to the front desk, I take a look around. Everything feels stale and cold. Plastic chairs next to tables with nothing on them. Grey carpet and walls with nothing on them besides a clock and a bulletin board with some informational posters on it. It smells like cleaning supplies and one of the ceiling lights is flickering. The girl in front of me steps away from the desk and goes to sit in a chair.

"Hi, I have an appointment." Why does it have to be so quiet in here? It's awkward enough in this waiting room without everyone hearing your conversation. This feels suffocating. The room starts to feel smaller than it already is. I should have just lied and not shown up. Mom wouldn't have known anyway since she had made me take the bus. I think she just couldn't face dropping me off here. In reality, all that did was reinforce in my head that she still wasn't trying.

"Name?" The lady at the desk talks in a low voice barely above a whisper. I can feel my cheeks burn from how loud I had spoken before.

"Max Duncan." Even the typing on her keyboard sounds a little louder than our conversation.

"Right Max you're all signed in," she says looking up and smiling at me. "if you could please fill these out while you wait, someone will be with you shortly to start your intake." Intake? I don't know what that means, only that it feels too official for comfort. I can hear my heart beating in my ears. She smiles again holding out the clipboard to me, and I realize I haven't been moving.

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