Chapter One: Evil Therapist Tricks

    "You know, I thought I was more likely to join a cult than to ever see a therapist", Alexandra quipped anxiously.  She began to look around the room nervously, avoiding her painfully stupid statement.  She had a talent for trying to be funny, and only ended up stuffing her imitation, designer shoes down her throat in the most insulting fashion possible.
   
    Do they choose to paint the walls the institutional colors for a reason? Maybe to keep the real crazies calm.  Alex froze and her face flushed.  Please tell me that wasn't my out-loud voice.
   
      "So what changed that brought you here now?" Dr Thatcher sat quietly composed with an intimidating notebook and pen resting on her lap.
   
    "Huh, oh..." Relieved she had not embarrassed herself for the moment, Alex shook her head and answered.  "I've always been in control of the direction of my life, motivated and searching for bigger and better things.  Suddenly that's gone.  It's like I've stalled out and have no desire to get going again." Why did that sound better when I rehearsed it in the shower?  She crossed her legs and began to wiggle her foot anxiously.  Dr Thatcher just sat quietly.  "I can't fix problems like I used to.  The tiniest disruption throws me into chaos.  It's almost easier not to care about anything.  I just feel...heavy." God, I'm depressing.
   
    "And what does that mean exactly?"
   
    That's what I'm paying you to tell me.  "I really don't know.  It's like feeling burdened by the day to day.  Wake up in a dull apartment, go to a job I hate, come home and go to bed just to wake up and do it all again tomorrow."  She stopped abruptly. She was shocked to hear aloud what she had felt for months.  She realized Dr Thatcher was using the evil therapy trick of remaining quiet so she would continue to babble.  It was working.  "There's just nothing to look forward to.  Sometimes I just want to scream with boredom.  It just wasn't all supposed to be so pointless."
   
    "You fail to see any purpose in what you do?"
   
    Alex shifted in her chair realizing it was strangely positioned between lounging and business-like, making it impossible to relax.  Damn therapist tricks.  Dr Thatcher began to make subtle notes while observing Alex's obvious uneasiness.  "Well it's not that I...," Alex shifted in the odd chair trying to glimpse at the doctor's scary little book.  "I always took for granted that I would go to college, have a fulfilling career, and come home at night to the house and family I dreamed about.  Instead, I'm a college dropout who has been forced to take a job as a phone slave slash errand girl, with no hope of promotion, so I'll just be stuck in my tiny apartment with the stained carpet for probably the next fifty years."  She took a deep breath realizing she may have overdone the bitterness just a tiny bit.  Alex shifted in her chair again.  Maybe I should sit still before she thinks I have hemorroids.  She patiently waited for some definitive wisdom to wash over her from the overpriced icon seated across from her.
   
    Dr Thatcher stopped writing and looked over her glasses at Alex.  "Let's move away from work for a moment.  How is your personal life?"
   
    With a frustrated sigh Alex realized there would be no quick answers.  How else would Dr Thatcher get her back for more sessions if she actually fixed her problems.  "What exactly do you mean by personal life?" she asked feeling smug, trying to play the doctor's own game, hoping to probe more information without earning it.
   
    "Friends, loved ones, your husband.  You mentioned wanting to come home to a family."
   
    Damn, it didn't work. Alex wasn't very good at this game.  "I don't know, not much to talk about." Her eyes wandered to a sad little fern plant in the corner.  It seemed to be Dr Thatcher's effort of reducing the clinical aspect of the office.  I thought plants thrived if you talked to them.  This lady hardly speaks, she probably stunted the poor thing's growth.  Again, she hoped she had not used her out-loud voice.
   
    "Alexandra?"
   
    "Sorry?" she began to consider inquiring about adult ADD.
   
    "We were talking about your husband."
   
    "Oh?" Her stomach turned. "What about him?"
   
    "Could you be overlooking the fact that your marriage is not as fulfilling as you would like?" For the first time during the session, the doctor had a glint of interest in her eyes.
   
    "Nope, he's great,"she stated, a little too quickly.  Dr Thatcher just stared.  Alex's foot began to wiggle again.  "I'm not here because I have marital problems.  I was talking about a lack of a future career, no direction.  Stuff like that." More silence from the doctor.  "We just have a routine." Alex smiled nervously.  Please say something.
   
    Dr Thatcher picked her pen back up with a pensive, "uh, huh."
   
    "A comfortable routine.  We both like it that way," she defended.
   
    "What about romance, support, encouragement?  Any of those fit into your routine?"
   
    Alex felt her heart speed up.  She began to wonder if she was betraying her marriage by questioning her faith in it rather than vigorously defending it.  She should have gushed about how thoughtful he was, and genuine with a fabulous sense of humor.  But somehow her mouth went in a different direction.  "I just wonder sometimes how things might be different...I guess if, I don't know...if I had never married him."
   
    Dr Thatcher feverishly scribbled away, and Alex began to panic.  Oh shit, I take it back, I take it back!
   
    "It's not that I regret getting married, I love him."
   
    Dr Thatcher rested her pen and took off her glasses.  "Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?"