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Monday, 3 September 2018


Dr Andre at the top
The week went by quickly in a rush. And before I know it Friday is here.
I have a meeting with my therapist scheduled for tomorrow being Saturday from 2 to 4; two hours.
I called her to tell her about my nightmares. They were getting worse; a different scenario every night all relating to that one horrible event in my past. She thought I was getting better so she told me I could stop using the drugs she prescribed for me but apparently I relapsed.
I don't know how and when it happened but they just came back all of a sudden. So she fixed me an appointment on a day and at a time where it would be convenient for me and not interfere with my work.
We have a therapy section at my hospital but I don't want their services. I don't want anyone knowing about my issues. No one knows about my past not even my parents. I didn't even tell my mom. I couldn't bring myself to tell her.
The next morning after that horrible incident when she saw my swollen teary face she panicked with shock written all over her face asking what was wrong but I couldn't talk. I couldn't say anything to anybody. I was always in my mind. I was so lost sometimes that I just stood on a spot staring blankly at the bare wall. My nightmares were horrible and frequent. I couldn't close my eyes to sleep. If I did all I would see would be their faces, all I would feel is the pain and then I would wake up screaming and crying.
My mom never stopped asking. She was worried and cried at times. After a few days with me still not talking she told my dad we had to move. She thought it was the state, the neighborhood, the house, the people, she thought it was everything.
So two weeks after that we moved to an entirely new state. I improved a little. I enrolled into a new school, new environment where no one knew my history. I still wasn't talking but I wasn't crying either. My mom begged me to go see a private therapist since I wouldn't talk to her but I refused saying I didn't need one. After so much begging I finally accepted and she remained my therapist over the years. I felt so comfortable with her that I told her anything. Even the most stupid of my thoughts I shared with her and she never complained, judged, or made jest of me. She just listened and advised me and gave me some exercises to help me cope and move on with my life.
She has her office in another state but she lives about two hours drive from my apartment so I'd drive over to her house Saturday to go see her. My weekends are always free so it wouldn't be a problem.
I get to work earlier than usual today because I couldn't sleep and it wasn't hard getting out of bed but that didn't stop the eyes bags from making a temporary home under my eyes. I look horrible, I know that but that's why we ladies have make up. I applied a little on my face to look presentable.
Since I am early and still have thirty minutes before briefing, I decide to get a cup of coffee from the café in our hospital building. I need a little caffeine in my life right now. I would've asked for an early briefing but Nancy would still be on duty and I can't drag her from her work for my selfish reasons.
Making my way towards the café, I bump into a hard wall; it was actually someone's chest but that's how it felt. It felt like a hard wall. I immediately compose myself and slowly rise my head to put a name to the individual with the hard wall. But when I look up I didn't recognize him but he is a doctor. At least I know that because his doctors coat is draped casually across his arm.
"H- hi.... Ummm... sorry for bumping into you. I wasn't looking" I tell him trying so hard to maintain eye contact with him. God! It is hard because his eyes are a beautiful brown colour and they are sort of the hypnotizing kind if you stared too long. He is tall at maybe 6'2 but I wasn't so short myself at 5'8 and he has blond hair. He is just a few inches taller than me but that doesn't say I am at eye level with him. I still had to look up to maintain eye contact.

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