The Secret World of Maya Alexander

Chapter 11

Maya chose silence for the soundtrack of her journey. It would give her time to gather her thoughts; to prepare herself for what she may be asked; to try and understand how she felt; to think what she was supposed to feel. It was more difficult than she had imagined. She searched in her mind but could not capture a thought long enough to explore it. Her father. Her family. Her husband. Her solitude. Her longing. Her emptiness. Her loss. They danced a 'ring o' roses' in her brain and vanished as they all fell down.

She rubbed her neck. Her fingers were greeted with the same clammy vision the mirror had unveiled . The car was hot from the sunshine. Maya hit the air con and the radio simultaneously to cool down her body and distract her unfocussed mind. Lily Allen's version of 'Somewhere only we know' took her mind to a forest and a fallen tree. The cool breeze awakened her.

Maya was not sure where she was but it felt like a safe place to be. Her brow softened, as her eyes revealed a narrow country lane. Thick green trees cast a beautiful potion of light and shadow over her. Shelter. Hidden amongst the trees there was a message. Her ears could not hear its sound, but her chest could sense its hopefulness.

The clinic was on the other side of the valley in a town that looked like it had been held on pause since the 1960s. Maya had soon left behind the country lane and forest and was met by an array of grey prefabs and a dreary little high street. Most of the public houses were boarded up, there were several hairdressers, at least two tanning salons and three kebab shops, far more than the population of this little town could ever have needed. The post office had managed to hold fast over the years, perched at the very top of town's steep hill.

Maya had used the post office once or twice in the past when she had been in the area for a home visit. Each time, she had noticed something unexpected on its nearly empty shelves. 'Why would a post office be selling dog food!?' She had once playfully retorted to Stephen on a dark December night as they drank tea.

He had immediately glared at her. She was making fun of his home and his people. 'Probably because there is no supermarket and a lot of dog-lovers?!'

His words could have been playful. But his sharp tone told her they were not. 'Why must you make fun of people Maya? Who do you think you are? Why do you think you are better than everyone else?'

On that day, Maya had not possessed the energy to justify what had been an innocent remark intended only as a means to share a part of her day with her only real companion in the country. Of course, she had not been making fun. It was just a quirky little thing. It had made her smile. Didn't he know that was just one of the things she did? Just a part of who she was? He had once thought it was endearing, cute, perhaps even adorable.

She didn't share her defence to the judge. And instead accepted being reminded that she did not even have the skill to share a conversation about her day without causing her husband offence.

'For fuck's sake Maya, you're so insensitive. I don't know how you get by in the job that you do,' had been Stephen's last words before leaving the kitchen and sulking for the evening. Maya rewarded his sulks with thoughtful gestures, such as making his favourite meal and giving him affectionate kisses. She could not bear the uncertainty of his silence.

An image of Stephen's stern face flashed through Maya's mind. An all too familiar anxious feeling invaded her consciousness, as the Post Office called out to her about the errors of her being.

The clinic was on the next street in an old converted terraced house. Maya noticed, as she often did, the absence of any trees amongst the grey streets. She looked beyond the houses and up towards the rolling green hills and compelling mountains. The contrast was strangely beautiful. Like a metaphor. She told Stephen that once too, but he had just rolled his eyes.

Inside the clinic, four magnolia painted wood chip walls and several brown plastic chairs joined together to provide a small waiting room. Maya saw a few worn looking posters seeking to destigmatize mental health. A mostly futile attempt to put at ease the worried minds fearing judgement. The hopeful and the hopeless. The overwhelmed and overwhelming. The disconnected. People.

Maya gazed at the leaflet that had been handed to her by the receptionist. 'What to expect from your counselling session'. The words blurred as her eyes struggled to focus upon the sense of them. Her mind was too busy dancing in circles to try and capture meaning. She wondered how her own clients must feel the first time they visited the clinic. Did the supportive posters and informative leaflets make any difference? Were her patients' minds too full or too empty to process the well intended words of participation and shared knowledge.

'Equal participants in a healing process' had been the founding belief of Maya's practice. But of course that could never really be true. It was like saying a trailer with a dodgy wheel participated equally in getting to the holiday home on the coast as the recently serviced reliable Ford that was towing it.

Maya did not think of her clients as trailers with dodgy wheels though. And she knew that without the contents stowed in the trailer, the Ford would not know what was needed to make the Coast a better place to be. If only Maya had such faith in the luggage of her own mind. Her brain switched between dark vacant spaces and suitcases so full the zips were bursting open.

'Maya Alexander'

The involuntary jolt which summoned Maya back to her surroundings caused her cheeks to heat up and redden. She had not allowed herself to acknowledge how anxious this appointment had made her feel. She wiped her clammy hands on her linen trousers. Her feet pushed against the floor and complied with the gentle request for her to accompany the softly spoken young lady into one of the side rooms.

Talking Therapy

Let's cocreate a more helpful way
For you to
Be

Let's cocreate a more helpful you
For the world to
See

A space between us
Here and now
Where ordinary magic
Will happen somehow

The spell might hold
The potion may fix
The illusion of being well
Brought to you by a bag of talking tricks!

A space between us
Here and now
Where ordinary magic
Will happen somehow

And if you take your medicine
You will feel lighter as you depart
Left behind in that space between us
The messy stuff of head and heart!

A space between us
Here and now
Where ordinary magic
Will happen somehow

Now off you go
Your brand new stance
Professionally packed
Rejoin the dance!

In a space between
You and them
Faraway, outside of here
Where ordinary magic
Will disappear!