Playlist

3. "Let It Be" - The Beatles

"How have you been?" Dr. Hawthorne turns down her music - The Beatles: 20 Greatest Hits on vinyl - and crosses her legs as she settles into her seat, her mug of tea in her hand. Dr. Hawthorne has been my psychologist and psychiatrist since I started high school. She's watched me grow, change. She's seen me at my worst, at my best, and everything in between.

"I've been pretty shit, if you want me to be honest." I cross my legs and hold my mug in my lap. Every session since day one, she's always made us tea, played background music, and had incense burning. When I started seeing her, I told myself I wanted to be just like her: she is licensed in seven different states; does research with Oxford, Cambridge, and Stanford (among other universities); has eight published books; is known throughout the field for being experienced in psychology for all stages in life - yet she works out of a 19th century home in the outskirts of Sandy Springs where she not only lives but runs a small rehabilitation home for adolescents. She has long, dark hair that she hasn't cut in four years, uses essential oils religiously, and believes crystals have healing properties. Her eyes are a bright hazel, standing out from her pale, freckled skin.

I'm 95% sure she's also a pothead, but that's besides the point.

"Honesty has always been a preference of mine," she smiles, a small, gentle smile, the wrinkles by her eyes showing. "What's been going on? I know you graduated. Congratulations."

"Yeah, I did. It's weird not being in school anymore, considering it has been my pride and joy my entire life. People used to know me as the girl who always got good grades, worked hard, etcetera, but now I'm just... another college graduate." I shrug and take a sip of my tea.

"Do you really believe that?"

"Yeah. I mean, no. I don't know. I don't want to be 'just another college graduate.'"

"Then don't be," she takes a sip from her mug and sets it on the coffee table in front of her. "You get to make life what you want it to be. You've always had that option."

I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. "I guess."

She doesn't say anything for a few moments before she sits up straight and folds her legs, her hands resting on her ankles. "I know there's been more going on. Do you want to talk about it?"

"How do you know?"

"Not only did you just tell me with that response, but I've known you since you were 14, Dakota dear."

A heavy breath leaves my lungs, and I bite at the inside of my cheek. I tell her about the graduation party and Aaron and Casey. I tell her how I'm thinking about leaving Georgia. I tell her that I feel like a piece of my identity is missing now that I'm not in school.

"How have your thoughts been?" She asks, and I think for a few moments.

"They've been okay. Of course, the night of the party they were a bit out of whack, but I think that's normal."

Intrusive thoughts: unwanted, involuntary thoughts that are associated with a person's fears and anxiety. I have them.

"Well, of course. But I mean, have you...?"

"No, they haven't been bad in a while. Since... since the last time I told you, I think."

"Good, good." She reaches for her notebook on the coffee table and jots something down. I always used to hate when she'd write during our sessions, but one day she showed me her musings after I had an episode on her. I used to think she was writing things like "this bitch is fucking crazy" and "schizo psycho in the room again". Come to find out, that's my anxiety talking, and she was writing things down to compile a diagnosis. "So do you feel that you need to get away because of Aaron?"