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The next morning, I got right out of bed and took a shower. I’ve read enough novels to know that therapists secretly take note of their clients’ demeanor and appearance. I certainly didn’t want to appear sloppy or make her think that I was unable to wash my own hair. I had an unspoken fear I’d end up locked up for a while if I didn’t pull myself together. Surely, this spiral down what felt like an icy abyss could not have been all because I’d dated someone for a few months. If anything good came of this, I’d certainly gained empathy and would no longer yell at the television when a poor helpless character in a movie couldn’t get off the couch because they were disappointed by their lover. Perhaps this adversity would make me a better person. This new positive attitude gave me the momentum to put myself together and drive to the clinic in timely fashion.
Seeing Sheila bought me another week off. The conversation went something like this:
Before she speaks, she sits and smiles briefly at me and I like it. It makes me feel warm and safe. I wonder if they teach therapists how to smile calmly.
Sheila: How are you, Chloe?
Me: Well, I’m doing okay. I’m setting goals and am getting away from it all.
She smiles again, but it’s not a cheesy smile or a patronizing smile. I wonder if she is born with this wonderful quality. I’m going to try and emulate it this week. That will be my new goal.
Sheila: Goals? What goals have you set?
Thinking about my goals, I realized they weren’t goals at all, and didn’t want to share them with her. I wanted her to be impressed with me. I wanted to lie, but I’d lied to her the last time when I said I hadn’t heard from Travis. I was certain she wouldn’t be able to help me if I filled her with fantasy.
Me: Well, one day, I had a goal that I would do nothing that involved stress. I deemed it a no stress day.
Sheila: And how did that go?
Me: Not well. I had to call your office.
Sheila: I noted that you came back to see me a little earlier than expected.
The tears started flowing the tissues were offered by a simple gesture to the box sitting on her desk next to me.
Me: Yes.
Sheila: What have you been doing with your time off? Are you enjoying yourself?
I was still tempted to lie. How could I tell her I hadn’t been out of the house?
Me: Well, I’ve been relaxing.
Sheila: Has he tried to contact you?
Me: Who?
Sheila: The man who violated you.
I was taken aback by the word “violated,” yet still grateful she didn’t say that word that began with an “R.” I still couldn’t believe it happened.
Me: I changed my phone number like you suggested. He hasn’t called.
Sheila: He is going to try and get to you, Chloe. They always do.
I could only think of him driving by my house. I couldn’t get the image out of my head.
Me: He’ll forget all about me when he finds another girl.
Sheila: He thinks he owns you. He will try to contact you.
Me: He drove by my house.
Sheila: You need to do something to protect yourself.
I pulled several tissues from the box. They were fluffy, expensive tissues and felt good when I blew my nose into them. My nose was starting to swell from the blowing, so I blew even harder. She held up a trash can and I threw them in. I was paying $100 for this visit, so I didn’t hesitate to grab a few more, just to hold them in my hands for comfort. I made a mental note to stop by the Target on the way home to buy a few boxes of these. I looked at the box to take note of the brand and type. I didn’t care what had happened to me, but I was suddenly passionate in preventing Travis from doing this to another woman.
Me: Ok. What should I do? I cannot and will not file charges, Sheila. It’s not that I’m in denial, which maybe I am, but even if I weren’t, I would not go to the police. It is my word against his and that’s not enough for a conviction. Trying to put him in jail would only smear my name in the community and I’d forever be the “one who tried to put Travis away.” He’s friends with the judge. I thought I’d told you that. So, you tell me Sheila, what do I do?
I was getting angry as I shared my thoughts. I wasn’t angry with her; I was mad at the fact that I felt helpless.
Sheila: Well, the first thing you need to do is ensure your safety, so you need to disappear. I recommend taking an additional week off from work. I recall that we had agreed on two weeks. Perhaps three weeks would probably be more appropriate. Would you be agreeable to this?
Me: Three weeks? Work already mailed me a mountain of paperwork for taking two weeks off and I need a doctor’s signature and diagnosis. There’s nothing wrong with me. How can I do this without getting fired?
I realized then and there that I didn’t want to go back to work for as long as possible. Nothing I vocalized had anything to do with missing my job or missing my coworkers. Everything I said had to do with the logistics of accomplishing taking off for three weeks without getting fired. It made me realize that I did need this extra time.
Sheila: Our office can sign your paperwork. Do you have it with you?
I pulled the paperwork out of my purse and handed it to her.
Me: They need a diagnosis. I have to be sick.
She pulled the top sheet from her file and handed it to me. It held my basic information and in the section titled “diagnosis,” it stated, “Major Depression – Chronic.” It looked like a life sentence...major depression. I knew I had farther to fall, and I wondered what a deeper depression would be labeled. All the same, I didn’t question it. I needed help and I knew it.
Sheila: I will ensure these papers are forwarded to your human resources department. We’ll provide a return-to-work date at three weeks from today and then we’ll ensure you can take off whenever you want for an additional four months. There is a limit of twelve weeks total by law, but I have no doubt that is more than sufficient to enable you to find the strength you already have within you to discover the awesome woman within you.
The last phrase sounded hokey and trite, but her compassion was authentic. She must have seen the smug grin on my face, because she then said just the right thing to make me smile.
Sheila: Plus, this will help you with the goal you mentioned this morning of eliminating stress.
Me: Thank you Sheila. Thank you so much.
Sheila: Now, before you leave, let’s talk about a game plan for the time you are off. You certainly can do whatever you’d like, but may I suggest you find something fun to do outside of the house?
Me: God, no. What if I’m seen by someone at work?
Sheila: Who cares?
Me: What would I say? I’m off for three weeks, but clearly am not sick.
Sheila: Why do you have to tell them anything?
Me: What if they spread gossip that I’ve been gallivanting around and about?
Sheila: Who cares, Chloe? Do you want to spend your life dictating your actions trying to please others or do you want to catch a breeze, spread your wings and soar?
She was waning philosophical again, I but got her point. I’d never looked at life that way. Her approach to deciding my fate had merit.
Me: I’d rather fly high like a pink paper kite with no strings attached.
Sheila: I see you are smiling. You’ve brought me joy. I’ll see you in a week, okay?
Me: Okay. Thank you again. Oh wait, I have one more question if you don’t mind. How am I supposed to disappear from Travis and at the same time not worry about being seen?
Sheila: You only have to remain aloof from one person. Do you know his habits?
Me: Yes, I know his habits. It won’t be as difficult as I thought it would.
I stood and smiled.
Me: See you in a week, Sheila.
Shelia: I look forward to it.