The Ground Below

Chapter Six

“So you’re moving?” I’ve been seeing Doctor Mobley every Thursday since I was eleven. Specialist always thought that because I was young, that I would grow out of my fear. By the time I turned eleven, it became abundantly clear that my phobia ran deeper.

Twenty-two years old and still afraid. When you stop worrying is when bad things happen. They happened to my dad, and they happened to my mom years later. When it seems normal, watch out. Something is always lurking around the corner waiting for you to be happy.

“Parker, you must be scared, but I have to say that I am truly proud of you. You’ve came a long way.”

“A long way? How? I still can’t get in a car without this phobia taking over.”

“Yes, but you haven’t had a panic attack in a long time which is progress. You also decided to make a huge decision for yourself.”

I nod. I haven’t had a panic attack in years. But on the other hand, I’m loaded up on nerve medication along with anti-depressants. I’m about as sane as my mother was post car accident. Like mother like daughter, I too was diagnosed with PTSD.

My therapist says it’s normal for me to be like this. Something so tragic happening to a five year old is bound to mess me up. Okay, so she didn’t say that exactly. I guess I am normal compared to her other patients. She probably tells them they are normal too.

I heard that if you think you’re crazy, most likely you’re not. Maybe I’m not as crazy as I thought. Tons of people get what I have.

“What am I suppose to do when I move? It’s obvious that this is our last session.” I twirl a loose curl around my finger in agitation.

Mobley closes her notebook and stares at me thoughtfully for a moment. As much as she’s done this one would think I’d be use to it. I’m not.

“Here’s the thing, Parker. I feel like you have made so much progress that you don’t need therapy. If you keep taking your prescriptions, the rest of your issues can be worked out by just living. But if therapy will make you feel better, I can recommend you someone. If not, then I’ll keep calling in your prescriptions.”

“Aren’t you worried about me?”

“Of course, but you’re not suicidal so you should do great in South Carolina.” What she means is I’m not like my mother.

“Of course I’m not suicidal or I wouldn’t be scared of losing my life every time I get in a moving vehicle. I don’t know how well I can do on my own.”

“You know what I mean, Parker. But, I understand your fear. Conquer it, because you are strong. If I’ve learned anything these past eleven years is you’re strong and willing to move past all the things that have brought you to me. You can do this.”

“Recommend me someone just in case. I’ll try to do it on my own though,” I tell her honestly, and hope that I can.

“Good. Now just remember, living is healing.”

I smile because she says corny stuff like that all the time, but I love it. I’ll miss her, and I tell her that.

“I’ll miss you too,” she hugs me before I walk out of the door.