Dying to know

Getting better

"So what's he like?"

"I think he's married..." I said hesitantly.

"Oh, shut up! You know what I mean," my sister Karen laughed. Ever since she found me, she's been a little overprotective. I loved her, I mean, I was obligated to love her since she's my sister, but every once in a while I needed her to back off.

"He's okay. Very calm, very accepting. He doesn't give me this vibe that he absolutely wants to fix me. He just gives me the space to tell my stories," I concluded.

"He's totally your type though," I added.

My sister nudged me, "You do know I'm married, right?"

"Isn't it about time you trade him in for someone new? I mean, people don't stay married these days. It's okay to exchange husbands," I joked.

"So you're saying you're completely comfortable having your psychiatrist as a brother-in-law?" Karen shot back.

Check. Mate.

"Nevermind," I muttered.

"A hot psychiatrist though, not bad," Karen smirked.

"I said he's your type, not mine," I shot back. I didn't even want to see Frank as something more than a normal human being who I pay so he can listen to me rant about my past. I suddenly realised how strange his job was.

"Doesn't matter. I'm just  glad you're getting better," Karen smiled. I wanted to argue with her but I decided against her. She could have that idea but in reality, she couldn't have been further from the truth. Yes, I was doing this for her. But I wasn't getting 'better'.

I didn't have the flu, I wasn't sick. I didn't need to get better. Every time she said something like that, it felt like she didn't accept me as a person. I'd accepted this, why couldn't she?

"Right. I should get going though. I have an appointment in fifteen minutes. Wouldn't want to miss it," I told my sister.

As a kid I often thought one of us was adopted. She has dark, curly hair and dark brown eyes, she was tall and seemed gracious. She likes numbers and facts and she's way more reserved than me.

I'm literally the opposite. I have light hair, green eyes, I'm so short when I stand next to her but I don't like wearing heels. I'm the creative one, the dreamer and I don't have a filter. I usually talk before I think.

But we always got along. Until that day. These days there's a lot of tension between us. Now, whenever she visits, I feel like there's an ulterior motive. And I think she doesn't like me being so unpredictable.

"Great! Okay, talk to you later," she said and left soon after. I took a deep breath, feeling relieved she was gone.

I didn't dread going to Frank. The last shrink I had was boring and old. His methods were probably old too. I felt like he got frustrated with me or my progress quite a lot but when I asked, he'd ignore my question. Enough said.

Frank seemed to listen. I didn't know what was going on in that head of his or what he was writing down but he at least gave me the impression he cared.

"Mila, come in! Make yourself comfortable," he said in a pleasant, yet professional voice.

"I will. It's warm in here. The weather is fucking pathetic. Have I mentioned I hate rain? Let's rant about rain today. I feel like ranting about rain," I told him in a cheery way. We both knew rain wasn't gonna be the topic of the day.

"Talk about rain? Do you like making small talk?" he asked.

"I just like talking in general," I shrugged. "Don't you like making small talk?" I shot back.

"I don't, actually. I like my conversations to be meaningful. Sometimes small talk is the only way to get there, so it's a necessary evil for me," he explained. I was shocked he'd answered a question about himself. Maybe I could turn this session around. I wanted to know about him. I was always talking to myself and I knew nothing about him. Which was normal but still.

"And that's probably how you became a shrink? No more small talks?" I guessed.

"Maybe that's part of it," he seemed to he thinking it over. "Let's turn this conversation around, shall we?"

"Aw, I wanted to try the shrink-thing for today," I pretended to mope.

"I bet you'd do a great job. Not today, though. I want to hear about your third attempt," Frank said.

"With pleasure. I should write a book 'How to not kill yourself'. Wait, that would just be living, right? Nevermind, bad idea," I muttered. "My third attempt. I didn't like that one. It wasn't a good way and thinking back, it still gives me the creeps. I decided that's not the way I want to go," I explained.

"In between my attempts, I'd still go to work and live my normal life. Like I said before, I don't hate my life. I just feel like I've done everything I needed to do. Months went by until my butt felt confident enough to try something else. I was gonna drown myself," I told Dr. Frank.

"Now, I like water. I like swimming and water balloons, baths and showers. The only thing I don't like is rain. Or should I say liked," I shuddered.

"I filled my bath tub with as much water as it could take. I'd read about people drowning in their own tubs so I knew it was possible. The only thing I needed to do was surpress my instinct to swim. At first, I was having this dilemma; naked or not? I mean, someone was gonna find me lying there. Did I really want them to find me naked? I'm not ashamed of my body but it seemed kinda creepy. I decided to go for a bikini," I said to Frank who was writing in his notebook.

"I got into my tub, the water was nice and warm. I almost forgot I had a purpose. I even contemplated on washing myself but then I figured the foam would hurt my eyes too much. So I put my entire body under water and felt stupid when I noticed nothing was happening. Duh, I was holding my breath! I swear I can be smart too," I joked.

"I tried breathing very slowly but apparently your bodies natural instinct is to fight to get air. So I started thrusting and had to fight against my own survival mechanism. Not easy. Eventually my movements caused me to accidentally pull the plug and the water disappeared into the drain. I'd been close though. Water was coming from every orifice of my body and I felt light-headed. I was choking on the water but I survived nonetheless. Drowning yourself is hard," I concluded.

"My love for water wasn't what it was before. Anyway, that was fail number three. I shouldn't have given up and it would've worked. Afterwards it gave me hope that I'd been close," I told Frank, who'd been silent this entire time.

"Seems like quite a traumatic experience," he finally spoke.

"Yeah... it was. I knew there had to be a better way. I just haven't discovered it yet," I said, being deep in thought.

"This is the first time, I've heard something negative come out of you. Unusual, considering the object of our conversations," Frank observed.

I guess.

If he thought this was a breakthrough, he was wrong. This was only the beginning.