Insanity

The After

1

The After

Insanity

Noun:                        1.in·san·i·ty

1. The state of being seriously mentally ill; madness.

2. Extreme foolishness or irrationality.

Synonyms: Madness, Lunacy, Derangement, Dementia

“Good evening Tuesday.” Not quite.

Dr. Miller smiled at me. She was leaning her slender frame against her orderly desk. Everything in her office was neat. Overly organized. It screamed OCD.

“Why don’t you take a seat?” Yeah, why not?

I choose the recliner that sat farthest away from her. It was smooth leather and cool against my skin, chilling my frayed nerves.

“How has your week been?” She grabbed her coffee off of her desk, and took a drink before setting it back down beside some manila folders. They were labeled with names that I couldn’t make out, other crazy people I guessed.

“Could’ve been better.” Way better. Going to school and having everyone think you’re insane doesn’t necessarily make your life a party. The hallucinations though, those are a real shin dig. 

“I see,” She nodded her head as she wrote something down in her small notepad, probably condemning me to more medications, “Have your prescriptions been helping with the nightmares?”

 Nope. They never do.

I’ve been having recurring nightmares ever since I could remember. I’ve been coming to a therapist for a shorter time than that and I’ve realized that they never help. No medicine can take them away. Neither can any amount of talking about them, trying to decipher what they mean. Believe me, I’ve tried, putting it into words just make it worse.

“Yes, my sleeping has improved tremendously.” I lied, I added a hint of sarcasm for my own benefit. She didn’t catch it.

“You know, if you lie to me I can’t help you get any better, and that’ll be a major setback for you Tuesday. I’ll have to add pathological liar to your diagnosis.” Okay, maybe she did catch it. I cringed at the thought of having to come here more than necessary.

“Fine,” I grumbled, “They haven’t helped. I still can’t sleep. The nightmares are still there. You’re not going to find a medicine to help it.”

“Of course we will. Its trial and error procedure is all.” She smiled at me patiently, like she was taught to do with crazy people. I was a crazy person now.

Obviously crying out in public about a person who isn’t really there is not socially acceptable. It tends to freak most normal people out.

“Have you had any more hallucinations?”

Not since the one that got me sent to this place.

“Not since the last one we talked about.” My palms were sweaty with the terrifying memory of that night. My body reluctantly remembered the feel of his dirty hands groping me, and shivered involuntarily.

“That’s good, it means we’re getting closer to getting you better. You’ll be back to normal in no time.” She smiled encouragingly at me, both sides of her mouth squished up like the Cheshire cat.

Normal? I almost laughed.

I wondered what exactly her definition of normal was. Or if I’d ever be considered even close to normal again. I had my doubts.