Hope

10

Today my mother found out about the whole therapist situation.

I didn't want to talk about it so we kept the conversation as simple as possible.

She asked me if a wanted to see a new therapist.

All I did was shake my head yes.

She kept quiet like always but kept wonder in her eyes about what I could've possibly said.

Afterwards I just sat in my room with my meds and a glass of water on my nightstand.

All I could focus on was my new therapist.

Are they actually going to listen to me?

Will they end up like the last person?

Are they gonna like me?

I'm starting to regret saying anything but I had to stand up for myself.

I wonder what meds I'm gonna be put on this time?

They probably won't like me.

Most likely they won't.

The questions were endless.

My mind became muddled with one question after another.

The amount of anxiety I was baring was eating me alive.

Question after question on wondering if I was going to appeal to them.

Why couldn't I be a normal teenager.

Four days have passed since I found out I was going to a new therapist.

Currently I have my head leaning towards the glass window in my mother's car.

On the outside I seem calm and uninterested but currently on the inside I am seconds away from a meltdown.

Once I got inside of the office I saw a woman calling my name.

She's my new therapist.

She had long black hair and Grey eyes with a sincere smile plastered on her face.

She's the bubbly type.

Great.

She told me her name was Rowan and she said she looked over my case.

Usually I was hostile to my old therapist but for some reason she made me somewhat comfortable.

She then asked me about how I feel about everything.

About school.

About home.

About being diagnosed with depression at my age.

For the first time someone actually wanted to listen.

Not talk over me and force me to listen to them.

She actually wanted to hear me out.

I actually felt contmept.