Page 156 of Becoming Us
My stomach tightened. “Like sleeping pills? No.”
“How about alcohol? Narcotics?”
The way his fingers hovered over the screen, waiting to type, threw me off. Like he was just checking a box.
“No,” I lied.
The burn from the vodka I’d downed in the elevator was still fresh in my throat. But I guessed I was sober enough. For now. I thought for a second about mentioning the coke. Maybe he could help.
Help with what? It’s not a problem. That shit’s just for fun.
“How’s your mood?”
“My mood?”
“Yes.”
I stared, half expecting him to crack a joke. That question deserved one.
When he didn’t, I said, “Not great.”
“How about mood swings? Feelings of intense euphoria followed by a crash?” He waved his hand in vague emphasis. His eyes flicked up briefly—just long enough to mimic attention. His receptionist must’ve learned it from him.
“No euphoria.” At least not the natural kind.
“Have you felt like this before your father’s death? Anything similar?”
“Not like this. I’ve felt sad before. Heavy and?—”
He tapped his tablet again, waiting.
“Alone, I guess. Yeah, I’ve felt that before. But never like this. This time, it’s got me paralyzed. I think I might need help, but I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. I need to know if this is okay.”
Still no real response—just more tapping. “Anything else?”
A million things.
“My relationship with my mother isn’t great,” I said, even though I’d already lost faith in this session doing anything at all. I wasn’t even sure he heard me.
Finally, he pushed his glasses up his nose and looked up. “Your symptoms are consistent with low mood, anhedonia, disrupted sleep, and likely some anxiety-related features.”
My brain stalled. “I—what does that mean?”
His expression remained impassive. “You’re experiencing a major depressive episode. It’s not uncommon for someone your age. Especially given the circumstances.”
The circumstances.That’s a nice way to put it.
He tapped a few more times, and the printer on the desk screeched to life. Reaching behind him, he handed me a piece of paper. “This will help stabilize your mood and regulate your sleep. Start with one of each at night and follow up in three weeks.”
I stared at the prescription, then back at him. “So that’s it?”
A tight smile. “If symptoms persist or worsen, we’ll consider adjusting the dose. Therapy might help, too, if you’re open to it.”
Silly me. I thought that was what this was.
“Okay, thanks.”
He didn’t respond. Just kept tapping.
