Waiting Rooms and Therapy

"Hi, I'm here to see Jeannine at one o'clock," I said to the receptionist at the local mental health center.

"Great, she's running a little late, but she'll be with you shortly."

I walked across the waiting room and took my seat against the opposite wall. I sat still, except for an occasional foot tap in sync with the U2 song being played over the sound system. I always feel pretty awkward sitting in waiting rooms. It would be easier if I would pick up a magazine and try to engage myself in some reading, but I consider magazines in public places off limits because of how many germs I imagine lurking throughout the pages.

I thought back to when I first started coming to the mental health center, sitting in the waiting room looking around at the other patients for some sign of sanity, some hope that mental illness isn't the end of the world. And although there were some sullen faces, I would also be amazed at some of the patients who seemed to be holding up just fine, engaging each other in lively conversation.

It wasn't too long before Jeannine appeared and led me back to her little windowless room. As I followed her I stole a few glances at her face, and noticed how tired she looked. She was also sniffling, as if she had a cold. Tough day to be a therapist, I thought to myself. When I see therapists, I always wonder how they are doing. That doesn't usually come up in our conversations though.

Despite the apparent fatigue and cold, Jeannine was still fairly cheerful and attentive. After checking in with the normal happenings of my life, she asked, "So is there anything else on your mind?"

"Well, my mother's wedding is coming up this week."

"How are you doing with that?"

"I feel OK with it. It's been such a gradual progression- first having Roby stop by occasionally, and getting to know him a little, then eventually seeing him often, and then having him move in with us- that I've become accustomed to the whole thing. Plus he's a good guy, so I do approve. But I'm waiting for the moment when it hits me that they are really getting married... and my father is really not around anymore."

"It's good you're aware that you may have some moments, even days, when it hits you emotionally."

"Yeah, I think it will be OK."

When the hour was about up, she pulled out her appointment book and penciled me in for next month. I left, feeling good about the visit, and looking forward to the rest of my day.