The Existence of Amy

by Lana Grace Riva

  I get the two important labels out though, so she gets a lead at least on the rest.

  'Would you be open to seeing a psychologist Amy?'

  'I don't know.'

  'I think it would be a good idea. You don't have to keep trying to cope with this by yourself. No harm in giving it a go?'

  'Ok.'

  'I'd also really like to start you on some medication. Just to help with the mood side of things. Get you able to leave the house again. What do you think?'

  'Ok.'

  I'm not really sure how I feel about either of these things, 'ok' just seems the easiest word to say right now.

  I could keep pretending everything's fine. I could keep hoping it will just resolve itself in time, all I need to do is be patient. But pretending is proving increasingly difficult. And hope is becoming an ever-fading feeling.

  I clearly can't fix this by myself. I have no idea what is even really going on in my brain so how can I make any realistic attempt at fixing it?

  I need to try something else. So, therapy and medication it is. This is what I will try. If this doesn't work, then I am still left with my one final option. That option might somehow be easier once I know that I truly did try everything that was possible before I arrived there.

  I will know this, and others will also know. It might even offer then some ease to be in the knowledge that it really was a last resort. Confirmation that nothing existed to save me so there couldn't be any other way.

  Maybe that will offer some kind of peace.

  I think of Ed and my promise. This is me trying Ed.

  The doctor sends me off with a prescription for the medication, and an instruction to look out for a letter that will detail a psychologist appointment. I re-join Nathan and we head back out to his car.

  'How did it go?' he asks once we're sat with closed doors.

  'She's given me a prescription for medication, and she wants me to go to therapy.'

  'Ok.' He looks at me and adds, 'These are good things. These are going to get you better. You have to follow through with them though. Can you do that?'

  I look out the window at the world I hope to one day be able to join. I sense this is my only chance of that ever becoming an actuality. I answer with what appear to be two recurring important words in my existence.

  'I'll try.'

  Chapter 42

  Nathan isn't taking any chances and stops off at the chemist to ensure I pick up the prescription at least. He follows me in but wanders off to buy some stuff at another counter.

  We drive back in silence, my gaze transfixed on the outside world. It's strange to observe after all this time inside. The world is still moving along as it always does. People going about their daily lives. This is how it will be if I get to the final option and leave.

  Yes, some people will be sad for a little while. They may be confused. They may be angry. They may be hurt. They may be relieved. They may be all of those things combined, but in time they will go back to being the things they are in their regular daily lives. The things I'm observing through this window. Their lives will go on. In some cases, they will go on perhaps easier given they have been alleviated from a little worry.

  I don't want to cause anyone pain. But the magnitude of pain I feel within myself is so overwhelming. Being in my current existence hurts. It hurts so very vastly there are no words that exist to truly depict its measure. I feel so drawn to just making it stop, regardless of any consequences.

  I know I am on a precariously flimsy line right now. Are medication and therapy really actually any match for this?

  I realise we have arrived back at my apartment and hear Nathan ask, 'Can I come in for a bit? Keep you company – we could watch a movie or something?'

  He already knows what my reply is going to be, but I feel something at knowing he asked anyway. Why would he want to spend time with this crazy shell of a person sitting in front of him? I can't understand his presence.

  'No, I'll be fine on my own.' Will I?

  He also knows not to push it. He's well aware that today has been a big step for me and he has to handle this with care. He's not going to budge on one thing though.

  'Ok fine but here, take this.' He passes me a bottle of water. 'Can you take one of the pills now please in front of me? Just so…' he fumbles for further explanation but can't seem to find anything suitable so resorts to simply, 'Please Ames? For me?'

  I look into his eyes and realise I don't recognise him. I've never seen this expression on his face before. He looks so desperately anxiously sad.

  It's enough to make me push back the argument I was about to voice. Instead I answer simply, 'Ok.'

  Remember Amy, you are going to try this. So, start the trying now.

  I swallow the pill and get out of the car.

  Chapter 43

  I do try. The trying really only encompasses two specific tasks but I commit to them. Taking a pill every day and waiting for a letter about a therapist appointment. This is trying I can do. Maybe even be good at. Not the greatest achievement in the world but I'll delude myself.

  As it's pretty obvious these two undertakings are the sum of what I can achieve in the days that follow, Nathan takes it upon himself to take on other necessary tasks. Tasks that don't involve him entering my home obviously. He doesn't question this too much thankfully as, like with everything else, I can't explain it to him.

  I live in a small one-bedroom apartment. It technically has two bedrooms, but one is so tiny it's insulting really to label it as a bedroom. You could fit a bed in there, but I suspect it would feel similar to sleeping in a cupboard. I have no need for a second bedroom anyway, I am barely allowed guests on the doorstep so sleeping over is entirely out of the question.

  I used to love entertaining guests. I lived in a home filled with life. Friends were always coming to visit for dinners or drinks. The atmosphere overflowed with laughter and fun.

  Such an atmosphere is entirely alien to my current home. The space overall is small but I don't need a lot of space given I have very little to fill it with. There is no inviting furniture, no space for guests to sit. Aside from the sparse collection of furniture I don't even own many possessions at all. More possessions just equates to more things to worry about so they are rejected. Just as people are.

  So, Nathan is not allowed to enter my apartment.

  He brings me food shopping. He takes care of work for me. I don't know what he's told them, but he instructs me not to worry about it. He makes sure my bills are paid.

  He sends me a message every morning and every evening to see how I am doing. If I don't answer he will call. If I don't answer his call, he will show up on my doorstep and not leave until he's seen me and spoken to me and I've promised him that I really am ok, and he can leave.

  One day we are speaking on the phone and he asks, 'Has the therapist letter arrived yet?'

  'No, but I think the doctor said it would take a while. I don't think they send it till a bit nearer the time when the first appointment will actually be.'

  'Right. Did she give you an indication of when that might be?'

  'She said there is always a waiting list and it might be a few months.'

  'A few months? As in three months?'

  'Think so, yes.'

  'That is ridiculous. You can't wait that long.'

  'I'll be fine.'

  'Is there no way to speed it up? You did make it clear to her how bad things were didn't you?'

  'I guess. I don't know. Maybe lots of other people are bad too. You can speed it up by going to a private therapist I think but then you have to pay.'

  'Right. Ok good, I will pay. I will investigate private therapists and get back to you once I've found one. Leave this with me.'

  'No! Nathan, you can't do that. You can't pay for my therapy, that is too much.'

  'I'm doing this Ames, no arguments.'

  He hangs up the phone before I can protest further. I have no energy for arguing anyway. I will let
him do his investigating for now but make sure it goes no further.

  Chapter 44

  A couple of days later Nathan sends me a message in the morning.

  I've made an appointment for you and will drive you there. Be ready at 1.30pm.

  I type out numerous variations of a rejection reply but something stops me sending them.

  I agreed to try the therapy option and I've been given the chance to start it soon. If I wait three months that is a substantial amount of time to talk myself out of it. I know I could easily slip back into just convincing myself I'm fine. Or worse.

  Something tells me that whilst I have any modicum of willingness to try this, I need to act on it.

  So, I erase all my initial replies and opt for a simple Fine instead.

  Nathan arrives promptly at 1.30pm. I am mostly silent for the drive while I contemplate what is about to happen. I'm not really sure what therapy will actually involve beyond trying to describe what is going on in my brain.

  Will I be able to explain it? Will they in any way understand? Will they let me leave at the end or will they have me committed to some terrifying mental facility?

  When we reach the appointment location, Nathan parks outside and as I glance at the building I ask him, 'Are you sure this is the right place?'

  It looks like an old apartment building. A place where people live, not where they try to fix brains.

  'Yeh, this definitely matches the address. I guess they like to make these places discreet.'

  They have succeeded. I don't really care though if anyone were to see me. I barely register people in this outside world aside from Nathan. I have no capacity to consider other people and the stories they might be making up in their heads about me.

  There is a small plaque on the main door of the building with the therapist's name on it. It's quite camouflaged really, you would only make out the name if you were standing close specifically looking at it.

  We are at the right address then.

  Nathan is going to pick me up afterwards, but let's me walk into the building alone. I sit in the waiting area and look out of the window. I glance down to the street and notice Nathan's car has not moved.

  Maybe he is checking his phone or checking something in the car that needs checking. Something that delays his departure. I have a feeling though he's not doing any of that.

  I'm a little early for the appointment. I suspect Nathan deliberately allowed for additional time in case time for persuading was required. I use the wait to productively stare vacantly at the floor.

  My staring is interrupted eventually when I hear my name called. I look up and see a man who introduces himself to me as Arthur.

  'It's lovely to meet you Amy, come on through.' He doesn't try to shake my hand which I know might seem rude to many, but it's made me instantly like him.

  He guides me to his room and indicates a chair for me to sit in. It's one of those tub chairs that look as though they were designed to make you feel like you are being hugged when you sit back in it.

  I of course can accept no such hug so sit perched on the very edge of it instead.

  The room is pleasant enough to be in. It appears clean. It's warm without being hot. There is a clock on the wall. It's placed to the side of us, perhaps so as not to be too intrusive on our conversation.

  There is a small table between us with two glasses of water. One on Arthur's side and one on mine. In the middle there is a box of tissues. Thoughtful items, none of which I will be allowed to entertain using.

  There is some distant noise from traffic outside but aside from that it is quite peaceful.

  Arthur begins.

  He smiles a warm friendly smile and asks, 'What brings you here today Amy?'

  So much. So many things.

  I'm not quite sure how to answer this though. I end up opting for just facts.

  'My doctor advised it might be a good idea.'

  'Ok. Do you want to tell me a bit about what's been going on?'

  'I'm not really sure where to start. I mean, I know I have these two things. One thing mainly but then the other sometimes appears. It's here at the moment. It's been quite bad this time, the worst it's ever been really. So, I guess that's what made me end up at the doctors.'

  'Can you tell me the names of the two things?'

  I know the names well, it's just hard to say them out loud for some reason. As if voicing them gives them some kind of power. As though it brings them into existence. I realise in this moment how ridiculous that is. They have very obviously bulldozed their way into existence in recent years paying no attention whatsoever as to whether I've spoken their names out loud.

  I look at him for a little while in silence before making my decision.

  'I have OCD.' I clarify by adding 'Obsessive Compulsive Disorder', although I would hope he knows what the acronym stands for, otherwise we are likely wasting our time here. 'And then also sometimes depression.'

  It feels strange saying this. I self-diagnosed myself long ago when I could resist the internet no longer. But once I felt I'd found enough to give myself these labels I didn't go any further. It scared me too much.

  I feel compelled to add, 'Not the jokey kind of OCD where someone might occasionally double check they've locked a door and say 'I'm so OCD about that door!'. There is nothing remotely jokey about the kind I have. It's taken over my life. It's taken over it and ruined it. Smashed it up into little pieces.'

  I continue on and describe to him my existence. It all comes tumbling out my mouth in surprisingly easy fashion. I'm not sure why but I find myself completely able to talk to him about it.

  Perhaps it is because I know he is a medical professional, and this is all confidential. He exists only in this. He is not my friend so there is no fear of losing a friendship. He is not my boss so there is no fear of losing my job. He is not someone I will have any contact with outside of this very room, so I feel this is one person that matters not if they judge me. There is little consequence.

  I do censor things slightly though at the beginning. I still have some fear that he might decide I am some kind of danger to myself and take some action that will affect things outside of this room. But the more we talk and the more I see expressions on his face (or more accurately, lack of expressions), I am shown more evidence that he is not shocked by my words and he is not going to judge me. He is simply going to listen.

  He is going to listen and also show some form of understanding. I have always known there are other people in the world who are like me but still in my existence it has felt unique. Here, in this setting, as he occasionally mentions statistics and experiences of others with similar, I am reminded that he will have heard my story before. Manifested in a different form of course, but the foundations being the same.

  Thank you Arthur, I'm glad I let Nathan talk me into meeting with you.

  All too soon I am aware of him glancing at the clock and he informs me that our time is almost up.

  'I would like to continue speaking with you Amy. I do think I can help you. I have a fair bit of experience working in these areas so would be happy to work with you. What do you think? Would you like to come back?'

  What do I think?

  I think this hasn't been so bad. He doesn't appear to be giving any indication that he has phoned for assistance to ensure I am not let back out into the world by myself. He hasn't appeared shocked or confused at any of my words. I have felt compassion in him listening to me which has been comforting to experience. Maybe this could actually help.

  'Yes. I think I will come back.'

  Chapter 45

  As I leave the appointment I walk out onto to the street and see Nathan's car parked in exactly the same spot as it was when he dropped me off.

  He hasn't moved. I'm sure there were loads of things he could have gone done in the hour, but he chose to stay in this very spot and wait for me. Just in case.

  I get in and smile at him. It's not a smile that quite meets my eyes a
s I'm simply not capable of such at the moment. But neither is it a smile devoid of any genuine feeling.

  We are silent for a while on the drive home. I can tell he wants to ask me how it went but is unsure if he should or not. I consider starting the conversation myself and talking about it, but I think I need to keep it all in Arthur's room for now.

  He eventually speaks but decides on a different safer topic confined to the realms of small talk. I am relieved and engage as best I can.

  We arrive back at my apartment and as I'm about to get out the car he asks, 'Will you go again? I mean, did you make another appointment?'

  'Yes. Same time next week.'

  'Great.' he smiles before quickly adding, 'I'll put it in my calendar.'

  'Why would you do that?'

  'To remind myself to drive you there and back.'

  'You don't need to do that.'

  'I want to.'

  I'm about to protest further but remind myself how much easier he is making my life for me at the moment. Let him do this for you Amy. Let him help. You need all the help you can get.

  I nod and reply, 'Ok, if you are sure.'

  'I am sure. It's no problem at all.'

  I sit a few moments more staring out the windscreen. I feel a sense of needing to explain to him. Needing to let him in in some way. Needing to let him know how grateful I am for all he is doing for me. Have I even properly thanked him? I can't remember. But I can't think of the right words to do any of this.

  All I manage to say is 'Thanks.' I wish he could hear the rest but I'm just not capable of transmitting it yet.

  I get out of the car and back into my apartment. I suddenly feel overwhelmingly exhausted, so I go straight to bed.

  Chapter 46