My appointment was set to meet with the head of psychiatry through the recommendation of my therapist. They both sat across from me to study me and jot down my answer’s to the random questions. “How are you? What’s happening in your life right now? ” my answer’s alway’s seem bland as I answered them, “I’m fine, nothing much going on. Ya know, the same ole’, same ole’.”
“Well, Beckie…” The psychiatrist said as she leaned forward in her chair, “I would like to show you some pictures and learn what’s the first thought that it evokes inside you. Do you think that would be alright with you?”
I then leaned in closer as well and agreed with this little test of hers. As she flipped through the cards that showed either an ink smudge, butterfly, blood spatter, and what appeared to look like vomit. My therapist sat by the psychiatrist’s side jotting down my answers to each numbered card. “Hmm, okay.” and “Ah, alright.” is all the psychiatrist would say after each of my answers. She barely showed any signs of the hamster turning the wheel inside her head as she flipped the cards and nodded.
“Okay, I have one last picture to show you, and just like the other’s, please tell me, what is the first thing that comes to mind. Are you ready?” I nodded with the same enthusiasm she displayed during this testing. “I’m ready…” I replied with a touch of sarcasm. ‘I mean really, doesn’t everybody tell her the same answers as I do? What is this supposed to prove anyway?’ is all I kept thinking to myself. That, and, ‘how much longer is this session supposed to last?’
“Alright Beckie, just lean back and tell me what you see in this picture, Okay?” the psychiatrist announced as she flipped the picture over, the first thought and words out of my mouth were spurted out was this…
“How lucky Mother Nature is to give birth to a brand new season. I would have been so grateful to have given birth just once.”
The room was quiet for a moment or so, and I could hardly believe I just spoke so candidly about a subject that was never brought to light during any of my one on one sessions with my own therapist.
Both the psychiatrist and my therapist glanced at one another, and the psychiatrist cleared her throat before responding. “Hmm, in all my years of showing these cards, this is the first time I’ve ever heard anyone give that response to the last card.” She then turned and faced my therapist, and calmly mentioned under her breath, “I think this is something that needs to be addressed in the future between you and your client. She is obviously suppressing a difficult time in her life.”
The session between myself and the powers that be was finally over, ‘Thank God.’ was all I could think. I just wanted to leave. As my therapist and I exited the psychiatrist office, she touched my shoulder and softly said, “Okay, Beck, please schedule an appointment at the front desk for say, maybe in two weeks. I think we need to discuss this further.” I simply nodded, no response necessary. I walked the long extension of the hallway to the receptionist desk, made the appointment. Then I walked outside to be greeted by the fresh air and all of Mother Nature blooming around me.
‘Gee, how lucky am I to relive that God awful day.’ I sighed and reached for the tissue in my pocket.