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Lily
Death.
"What about death scares you?"
" Death.
Living and Dying.
Death.
Life after Death."
And that is all that she could give me. After 1 year of consultation. We're back at the start.
Lily worked a 5 to 8 hour shift as a waitress back in Saint Louis. The very first time I met her. She had the smile of someone saying their last goodbye. Her eyes round, like a ball, wordless, empty. Hair, loose and messy. She appeared to be wearing an old T-shirt of pathos and a rugged pants that seemed to have been worn only once.
I've seen many patients who come dressed in their best, defensive attitude. Trying to hide every memory as if I haven't been long enough in this game. Lily, however, she doesn't conceal anything. As if she wants me to see what she sees. This is a case of the psyche. Fortunately, not a case of behaviour or appearance. Lily, first came to me reporting an incident. At first, like any other private practitioner , I was forced to water this flower. Instead, I needed to know why it's not growing. This incident has occurred several times in her mind. Death.
Lily's condition allows her to focus on premonition rather than the present or the reality as we all call it. She absorbs multiple thoughts at a given time and reacts reflexively as a result to defend herself against the unknown. The demon of fear.
Impulsivity.
Five months ago, Lily was rushed to hospital due to self infliction. This time, turning her thoughts into action.
Now, sitting across her, in the room. I've seen her far stronger. C'mon Lily, you've got to let me in this time. I thought.
"It never hurts when I bleed" . She continued. " It only hurts when I stop.. bleeding... It comes back again."
"What comes back again, Lily? Those thoughts?"
She didn't respond. She never responds when I am correct.
" Tell me, do you want to do this forever? You've been clean for 4 months. What happened? "
It was more of a statement than a question. I knew what had happened. But I signed a legal contract that will forever unbind me to her real reason. How can I persue this profession in its' best capacity. Today. I refuse to allow her to go back into what she came out from. Forget personal.
" Why don't you tell me how you feel...
Go on. I'm listening."
She looks out of the window with her fingers clenched in her palms.
This is the thing about being SICK. You do not know that you are sick. In your mind, everything is real. Your thoughts and the voices inside your head. They are real. Though, to Lily. Only this life is not real.
" I know what you're thinking, she finally exclaims. And it's not true. I... I.. Just had a moment of weakness."
"Alright. Tell me what caused this feeling of weakness? "
" I'm only brave enough to tell you that what you're doing is a waste of your time. It's been one year. I haven't been fixed. They keep saying that more therapy concludes a better result. But, tell me. What does my records show?"
" I'm not interested in those records. They're documents of you. It is not you."
She looks down." I don't know why you have so much faith in me. The others have laughed at the bitter sweetness of my soul. My relapses are often. Now, twice every week. The pills you've given makes me feel drowsy. So I sleep. I sleep often. I want to be awake. And if I'm awake, I want to sleep. These scars are meant to scare you. Why doesn't it scare you? Why do you look at me with love in your eyes? "
But you are here, aren't you Lily?
I think it is far worse... She couldn't complete her sentence.
Death.
"What about death scares you?"
" Death.
Living and Dying.
Death.
Life after Death."
She always shuts the door.
When I listen. Sometimes just sometimes that is enough.
For her.
And for me.
"What about death scares you?"
" Death.
Living and Dying.
Death.
Life after Death."
And that is all that she could give me. After 1 year of consultation. We're back at the start.
Lily worked a 5 to 8 hour shift as a waitress back in Saint Louis. The very first time I met her. She had the smile of someone saying their last goodbye. Her eyes round, like a ball, wordless, empty. Hair, loose and messy. She appeared to be wearing an old T-shirt of pathos and a rugged pants that seemed to have been worn only once.
I've seen many patients who come dressed in their best, defensive attitude. Trying to hide every memory as if I haven't been long enough in this game. Lily, however, she doesn't conceal anything. As if she wants me to see what she sees. This is a case of the psyche. Fortunately, not a case of behaviour or appearance. Lily, first came to me reporting an incident. At first, like any other private practitioner , I was forced to water this flower. Instead, I needed to know why it's not growing. This incident has occurred several times in her mind. Death.
Lily's condition allows her to focus on premonition rather than the present or the reality as we all call it. She absorbs multiple thoughts at a given time and reacts reflexively as a result to defend herself against the unknown. The demon of fear.
Impulsivity.
Five months ago, Lily was rushed to hospital due to self infliction. This time, turning her thoughts into action.
Now, sitting across her, in the room. I've seen her far stronger. C'mon Lily, you've got to let me in this time. I thought.
"It never hurts when I bleed" . She continued. " It only hurts when I stop.. bleeding... It comes back again."
"What comes back again, Lily? Those thoughts?"
She didn't respond. She never responds when I am correct.
" Tell me, do you want to do this forever? You've been clean for 4 months. What happened? "
It was more of a statement than a question. I knew what had happened. But I signed a legal contract that will forever unbind me to her real reason. How can I persue this profession in its' best capacity. Today. I refuse to allow her to go back into what she came out from. Forget personal.
" Why don't you tell me how you feel...
Go on. I'm listening."
She looks out of the window with her fingers clenched in her palms.
This is the thing about being SICK. You do not know that you are sick. In your mind, everything is real. Your thoughts and the voices inside your head. They are real. Though, to Lily. Only this life is not real.
" I know what you're thinking, she finally exclaims. And it's not true. I... I.. Just had a moment of weakness."
"Alright. Tell me what caused this feeling of weakness? "
" I'm only brave enough to tell you that what you're doing is a waste of your time. It's been one year. I haven't been fixed. They keep saying that more therapy concludes a better result. But, tell me. What does my records show?"
" I'm not interested in those records. They're documents of you. It is not you."
She looks down." I don't know why you have so much faith in me. The others have laughed at the bitter sweetness of my soul. My relapses are often. Now, twice every week. The pills you've given makes me feel drowsy. So I sleep. I sleep often. I want to be awake. And if I'm awake, I want to sleep. These scars are meant to scare you. Why doesn't it scare you? Why do you look at me with love in your eyes? "
But you are here, aren't you Lily?
I think it is far worse... She couldn't complete her sentence.
Death.
"What about death scares you?"
" Death.
Living and Dying.
Death.
Life after Death."
She always shuts the door.
When I listen. Sometimes just sometimes that is enough.
For her.
And for me.
