Resilient

two.

As I sit down in the cool leather chair, the reality of my situation hits me. The slight chill buzzing on my skin reminds me that this is real. This is not a dream. This is not an illusion. I'm here. It's happening.

I take notice of my surroundings. There's an old, rusty clock in the right corner of the room that appears to have stopped. Much like myself, it is only correct and valid at a specific time, but the rest of the time it is lost. It doesn't know how to fix itself, but more than that, it may not realize how damaged it really is.

My gaze shifts to a haphazard stack of boxes on the desk. Those boxes don't know it, but each one of them is crucial to maintaining stability. If even one of those boxes were to move ever so slightly, the entire pile would collapse. I wonder if they know how close they are to chaos. How one wrong move could result in their destruction.

I hear the faint "plop plop plop" coming from the water dispenser in the left corner of the room. It must have a small leak of some sort, perhaps a slight pipe fracture. The thing about tiny leaks is that you don't really notice them. Even on the off chance that you do, you brush it off as a minor nuisance. After all, it's not really important in the grand scheme of things and trying to fix it would cause more trouble than it's worth. Besides, you have bills to pay, children to raise, a life to live. If you stopped to deal with such a small problem, you wouldn't get to enjoy the big picture of what life has to offer you. You don't see the future repercussions, you just see the small crack.  The problem is that when you don't give it the attention it deserves, it slowly gets worse. Not all at once of course, but gradually. Slowly, more and more water begins to leak but since you've already determined that it didn't matter, you don't take notice. After all, it was just a tiny crack. With each day that goes by, it gets worse and worse, but you didn't consider it important. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months. Then one day, your entire house is flooded. How is this possible you wonder? How could something so small have caused such devastation? After all, it was just a tiny crack. It was minuscule. It was insignificant. But what you didn't notice was that over time the fracture became a crack. The crack became a gash. The gash became a clean break. The signs were there. It was getting worse and worse by the day, but you always thought of it as a nuisance rather than a problem. No matter how bad it got, to you it was always a fracture. And who has time to deal with such a small problem?

I didn't think the small cracks in my mental stability mattered. Why would I fix something so small and insignificant when I have a wife at home, two beautiful children to raise, and a job to attend to? Obviously those things mattered more at the time, why wouldn't they? The sad part is I could feel it getting worse. I could feel the cracks become larger. I could feel the physical toll it was taking on me. But to me, it was just one silly little crack. I didn't recognize it for what it was not because I couldn't feel the symptoms, but rather because I didn't want to feel them. I didn't want to admit to myself that I had a problem. In my mind, it wasn't a problem if I didn't think it was. I believed that I had cognitive control over the situation, that I and I alone could dictate its severity.  All I had to do was ignore it. After all, it was just a tiny crack. But just as in the pipe analogy, there came I day when I was no longer in control. Everything came crashing down. My small fracture had turned into a clear break.

I know there's no point in feeling sorry for myself. I was the one that ignored the signs. I was the one that foolishly thought I could have cognitive domain over my mental state. I was the one who convinced myself that the problem didn't exist. But due to my mistakes, my stupidity, my foolishness, now it has become other people's problem. It has become my wife's problem. She has to calm me down in the middle of the night when I wake up screaming, drenched in sweat. It has become my kids' problem. They are the ones that have to do the chores around the house when I can't get out of bed. It has become my boss' problem. He is the one who has to take on the extra work when the only energy I can summon some days is to pick up the phone and call in sick. I have nobody to blame but myself. I have no more excuses to make, no more cards to play, no more time to wait.

That's why I'm here. Sitting in this chair. Over analyzing my surroundings. The slight chill on my legs has dissipated, but the reality of this moment has not. 

Deep breaths, Ryan. Deep breaths.

Suddenly, the gentle "plop plop plop" is no longer audible. It has been dwarfed by the sound of the clacking of high heels on hardwood coming closer and closer, rapidly approaching the door. I hear the door creak open, and then she comes into view.

"It's Ryan, correct?"

Her voice was like honey, oozing ever so slowly from the bottle. It was smooth, calming, familiar almost.

"Yes, that's right."

She took a seat opposite mine and took out a pen and pad from her briefcase. All the while, I was studying her. Her long, curly hair was as dark as the night sky and her eyes were the purest of blues. The dark brown chair she was sitting on only amplified her flawless fair complexion.

"Forgive me, I had assumed you were a man. My assistant told me your name and I suppose I made a snap judgment."

"Don't worry about it. Trust me, I get that all the time" I reply with a dry chuckle.

"Well it's nice to meet you Ryan. I'm Doctor Roberts, but please, call me Elaine."

"It's nice to meet you Elaine."

"So tell me, Ryan. What brings you to me?" she asks while raising pen to paper.

Deep breaths, Ryan. Deep breaths.

"It's time."

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