TheGrasshopper
Bluelighter
So then..
Through years of untreated depression and a pretty heavy dose of ADHD, I decided to seek therapy after coming to the realization that I can not deal with all of my problems without some help. Not being the wealthiest fellow, I was limited with my options but settled for an older lady that shared my polish heritage, she was highly recommended by a family friend and at sixty five dollars an hour, I wasn't about to complain.
Growing up in New York, I was no stranger to aggressive traffic and it might have had to do with the stress of being late or that I had circled a few times on a congested and poorly maintained road that seemed to be constructed with the sole purpose of destroying my car's suspension, but by the time I arrived, the last thing that was on my mind was the anxiety of a deeply revealing session with an absolute stranger. I parked my ratty blue Mercury and hurried into the building and up to suit 53.
Arriving at the door I took a minute, my hand resting over the knob. There was laughing in the background but I couldn't make out weather it was coming from inside or maybe another room. I thought to myself that this experience might not be so bad, "a good way for me to vent". With that in mind, I turned the handle and walked in.
On entering the room I was immediately hit with a tasteless mix of pungent scented oils, smelling anything else would be impossible and proved to be for some time after the session. It was dimly lit and not much bigger then my bedroom, the walls where lined with black metal and green cushioned seats that one might find at a doctors office. There was alot of them for the size of the room. I noticed a girl slumped down in one sitting left of a narrow hallway that had several doors on either side which I assumed where the source of the now almost intolerable smell.
I sat down across from the girl and focused my sight mainly on the floor or wall left of me as to not make direct eye contact with her, assuming that she was there for similar reasons, it seamed the best option at the time as I didnt want her to feel uncomfortable and nore did I, for that matter. My attention faded from the room, to the back of my head and I started to think about what should be the subject matter for my session. I started to get distracted by the conversation coming from the hallway.
"Oh when did you move here?" In a very exited voice a woman asked. "Oh so you weren't around in 94? Oh wow so you don't know what happened out there". "No what happened in '94?" Another woman said. "Oh well, there was this guy driving a work van down on that road out there and I don't know but he musta' had a heart attack while driving, ran right through the intersection and hit a school bus". The woman paused as if to take a sip of coffee, or maybe catch her breath. "Think it was the younger kids too!". "Oh my god!" the other woman exclaimed. "Well you know that work van" she continued "it had a metal ladder on top and when it collided with the school bus, that flew off the top and when't right into the bus, tore the bus driver's head off!". The teller waited for the listeners response, a moment passed by and I found myself back in that room after a graphic visualization of the horror which just overheard.
At this point my attention veered towards the girl that was sitting across from me. In the almost hallucinogenic experience endured while listening to a play-by-play recap of the local tragedy, I had overlooked the fact that this girl was younger then me, much younger. Looking over I noticed that she was much lower in her seat then I remembered, obviously incredably uncomfortable. This poor girl took the bus too school every morning, the same bus that they where just talking about, and she would probably have to for another year or two.
A shadow emerged in the hallway and a rather overweight woman with a slight accent welcomed me to her room, the same voice that was just telling the story. As I got up and walked forward to follow her. Passing the girl on my right, I couldn't help but wonder how she was affected by what she had just overheard.
Through years of untreated depression and a pretty heavy dose of ADHD, I decided to seek therapy after coming to the realization that I can not deal with all of my problems without some help. Not being the wealthiest fellow, I was limited with my options but settled for an older lady that shared my polish heritage, she was highly recommended by a family friend and at sixty five dollars an hour, I wasn't about to complain.
Growing up in New York, I was no stranger to aggressive traffic and it might have had to do with the stress of being late or that I had circled a few times on a congested and poorly maintained road that seemed to be constructed with the sole purpose of destroying my car's suspension, but by the time I arrived, the last thing that was on my mind was the anxiety of a deeply revealing session with an absolute stranger. I parked my ratty blue Mercury and hurried into the building and up to suit 53.
Arriving at the door I took a minute, my hand resting over the knob. There was laughing in the background but I couldn't make out weather it was coming from inside or maybe another room. I thought to myself that this experience might not be so bad, "a good way for me to vent". With that in mind, I turned the handle and walked in.
On entering the room I was immediately hit with a tasteless mix of pungent scented oils, smelling anything else would be impossible and proved to be for some time after the session. It was dimly lit and not much bigger then my bedroom, the walls where lined with black metal and green cushioned seats that one might find at a doctors office. There was alot of them for the size of the room. I noticed a girl slumped down in one sitting left of a narrow hallway that had several doors on either side which I assumed where the source of the now almost intolerable smell.
I sat down across from the girl and focused my sight mainly on the floor or wall left of me as to not make direct eye contact with her, assuming that she was there for similar reasons, it seamed the best option at the time as I didnt want her to feel uncomfortable and nore did I, for that matter. My attention faded from the room, to the back of my head and I started to think about what should be the subject matter for my session. I started to get distracted by the conversation coming from the hallway.
"Oh when did you move here?" In a very exited voice a woman asked. "Oh so you weren't around in 94? Oh wow so you don't know what happened out there". "No what happened in '94?" Another woman said. "Oh well, there was this guy driving a work van down on that road out there and I don't know but he musta' had a heart attack while driving, ran right through the intersection and hit a school bus". The woman paused as if to take a sip of coffee, or maybe catch her breath. "Think it was the younger kids too!". "Oh my god!" the other woman exclaimed. "Well you know that work van" she continued "it had a metal ladder on top and when it collided with the school bus, that flew off the top and when't right into the bus, tore the bus driver's head off!". The teller waited for the listeners response, a moment passed by and I found myself back in that room after a graphic visualization of the horror which just overheard.
At this point my attention veered towards the girl that was sitting across from me. In the almost hallucinogenic experience endured while listening to a play-by-play recap of the local tragedy, I had overlooked the fact that this girl was younger then me, much younger. Looking over I noticed that she was much lower in her seat then I remembered, obviously incredably uncomfortable. This poor girl took the bus too school every morning, the same bus that they where just talking about, and she would probably have to for another year or two.
A shadow emerged in the hallway and a rather overweight woman with a slight accent welcomed me to her room, the same voice that was just telling the story. As I got up and walked forward to follow her. Passing the girl on my right, I couldn't help but wonder how she was affected by what she had just overheard.
