A Listening Ear

"I think I’m losing it! I don't know who I am anymore! Always, no matter what, I could count on myself. But now — nothing! I’m like a stranger to myself! I have no control!"

Isabella used the moment Serena took a sip of her wine to get a word in.

"Maybe it’s stress or perhaps something’s bothering you. I know it’s not your type of thing, but talking to someone could really help. It did wonders for me."

Serena’s rant continued mid-sip. "I used to know myself, you know? Like the back of my hand. Now my body is rebelling. My mind — it’s what... on strike? And I’m stuck between the two! Which one do I concentrate on? I don’t want to take sides! I need both!"

She raised her wine glass to her lips but lowered it again. „You mean talk to a professional? You think I’m that far gone?”

Isabella waited a moment before answering, expecting her to continue, but she was quietly staring at her almost empty glass.

"It doesn’t mean you’re beyond help. It’s really nice, and a fresh perspective might be exactly what you need. Dr. Rosen was amazing for me. She had this way of making me feel like I was talking to an old friend instead of a doctor."

Isabella fully expected a rigid refusal, but by the looks of it, she was actually considering going.

******

"Room No. 102, please. Go and take a seat."

Okay, I’m actually doing it — talking to a professional. No, no. Isabella said it doesn’t feel like it. Just like talking to an old friend.

Serena took a deep breath and a woman wearing a grey pantsuit walked in, taking a seat on the opposite sofa.

"Hi, doctor! It’s my first time here, so... I’ll try."

"I’m not a doctor," said the woman with a little smile, her hands awkwardly on her lap.

"Oh, yeah, of course. My friend said something about your methods, how you’re not a doctor, but like a friend. Well, friend — my body is refusing to work with me. I used to be all in — every day! Hell, sometimes twice, three times a day. And now... I just don’t feel it anymore. Don’t get me wrong. My husband’s amazing! He's hot and oh, he knows what he’s doing — trust me! And I want to want it, I do! But my body? Sahara. And I know there are things that can help, but c’mon — I’m young! I don’t need that! I’ve been to a doctor. Physically, I’m fine. That’s why I’m here. My mind’s on a strike! I need it fixed! ASAP! I so want to..."

Serena’s ramble stopped when a door opened, revealing a smiling woman with a name tag: "Dr. Rosen"

"Oh, there are two of you — must be a mistake. Everyone should get their own waiting room... Um, Serena Smith, please. I’m ready."