It was Friday afternoon. Sophia sat near the exit. She always sat near the exit in waiting rooms. Being near the door, meant she could get out quick. Right now she wanted to leave. She had been wanting to leave for forty-five minutes. She glanced at her phone it was 4:00 pm. Her appointment had been scheduled for 3:00. There was one more person before her. He was a very anxious man whose skin was flushed red by high blood pressure or anxiety, or both. Once again she wondered why waiting in waiting rooms played such a huge part in mental health maintenance. Sitting for an hour holding a physical magazine about home beauty unable to concentrate on anything as she waited to have an appointment she did not want to have was such a time suck. Irritation prickled through her. Cleo was home. Robert was home. She wanted very much to be home.

Finally, the person ahead of her went into the office. She could hear the low murmur of Dr. Brown’s voice. Mentally, Sophia began to prepare for entering that room. Her heart rate picked up. She hated coming to the psychiatrist’s. She hated it so much. She hated it even more because she was going to have to relay her bizarre experience. How would Dr. Brown respond? What medications would she prescribe? What if Dr. Brown decided she needed to be observed in a psychiatric ward? Sophia began to sweat.

Too soon, the man ahead of her and came out again. The entire appointment took less than fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes. Sophia took in a slow breath. One way or another, this would be over soon. Dr. Brown came to the door and called her name. The woman smiled at her. It was a professional smile, not cold, but other. Sophia stood. What she would say started looping in her head. Inside the office, she was once again overwhelmed by the number of cats that covered the walls, shelves and desk top. She took a seat.

Dr. Brown situated her muscular body behind her desk. She tapped her tablet and read through Sophia’s file. When she finished, she looked up and asked, “How have you been?”

As always Sophia’s throat went dry. Talking to her psychiatrist always made her more nervous than talking to her therapist. With her therapist she had forty-five minutes to get it out. With her psychiatrist, she barely had time to collect her thoughts. “Um, I feeling a bit better. I’ve slept better the past two nights, and my appetite is a bit better too. I don’t feel so afraid of failing at motherhood or leaving my child.”

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Dr. Brown said, “That is good.” She asked her a few questions about what she had seen and heard while she her mind had transported her to the sea. Dr. Brown listened thoughtfully. Sophia was aware she was being being scrutinized. When she finished, Dr. Brown said, “I read over your therapist’s notes and while I am not exactly into her mumbo jumbo, I think there were definitely positives in the experience. You did have a break through. I’d like to see you every week for the next three weeks to monitor your progress. I’ve scheduled some additional psychological testing for you to take at your therapists office. Insurance may not cover it, but I think the tests are important. Your therapist and I need to have a clearer view of how your mind works. Also, I am going to prescribe an anxiety medication for you to take as needed. It seems to me that anxiety has a role in your episodes.”

“All right.”

Dr. Brown asked about her pharmacy information and tapped in a prescription. She stood, and Sophia stood. She smiled and said, “I will see you next week Sophia.”

Back in the car, Sophia felt dazed. She always felt dazed leaving the psychiatrist’s office. There was something terrifying about having to be that vulnerable while at the same time having to admit and receive help because she had a mental illness.

On the drive home, she called her father-in-law. His kind voice answered. He asked, “Hey Kiddo, what’s up?”

“Poppy, I need to tell Robert I know about what happened with his mom. I just wanted to let you know. There may be fall out. Are you okay with that?”

“Kiddo, I never told you not to tell him. He’s not going to be happy about it. We both know how private he is. I will handle whatever comes next. So do what you need to do.”

“Thank you.”

Warmth and compassion filled his voice as he said, “It will be okay, it may even be better. Secrets can be poison. If you need anything don’t hesitate to call.”

“All right. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

They hung up.

Outside the January sky was overcast. A light rain was beginning to spit out of the clouds. Sophia hated slick roads. She climbed into the car and drove out of the parking lot. On the road, her knuckles grew white as she clutched the steering wheel. Inside her chest, her anxiety began to rise.This was a day of hard things. Maybe she should wait another day before she told Robert. Was she really up to it today? Would she ever be up to it?

Her phone pinged. Her prescription was ready. That was fast. She was grateful. It gave her a bit more time before she had to face Robert.