She pulls off the main road into the compound and is immediately transported to the 1970’s. Another world, hidden from the chaos outside. As April winds her way up the hill to the parking lot she begins to think that zen-type music should be playing. You know, with a citar and the gentle sound of chimes.
Passing the day hospital, she wonders what they do there. Is it for experiments on the mentally ill? She avoids looking at the sprawl of the psychiatric hospital to the left–the scar on the beauty of the compound. The place nobody wishes their worst enemy would have to visit.
With a hurried step, she walks across the bridge leading to the office building. She’s in awe at the splattered colors of Autumn on the bridge. She’s late–so unlike her–the one who sometimes arrives an hour early–just in case. She admonishes herself for insisting on finishing just one more row of one of her knitting projects.
Opening the door to the reception area of the Pill Pusher (aka the psychiatrist), she is again transported to a different decade. The 70’s furniture and lamps, all a reflection of days long gone. Unfortunately for April, it creates more inner reflection of where her troubles began.
The hunched over Pill Pusher is never on time, and today was no exception. He finally opened the door and escorted her to his office. The office has nice comfy chairs but she notices the dust around the office must also be from the 70’s as well.
He begins telling her of his recent travel to Washington – the state – because he remembers she’s from the Seattle area. Patiently, she listens but her mind is not hearing what he’s saying because she wants to whine and get the hell out of there.
There is one little pill which is causing her grief. The thing is almost microscopic and if accidently dropped on the floor, it’s impossible to find. The pill packs a punch, helping April further accept who she is and how to live in spite of anxiety and clinical depression. However there are side effects that create a cycle of self-loathing. It raises her blood sugar, A1C, and causes weight gain.
She begs to taper off the little pill because she feels stronger now. The side effects of the tiny pill are making some of her recovery more difficult. The side effects are far outweighing any benefit.
As she whines about the weight gain, the Pill Pusher asks…”has your husband complained about your weight?” Holy crap, she thinks, is he not hearing what she is saying? The more weight she puts on the more she beats herself up. She is not happy with herself.
…..and another pill is removed from the cocktail, after a tapering off period. She will continue recovering and reminds herself of all she has learned about herself.
For the record, if one more torturer tells her she must exercise, she is going to blow her stack. She knows that is the answer to her poor self image, and that exercise would be a huge benefit. She believes it’s the one hurdle left as she drives home with 70’s rock music playing on the radio….feeling a bit victorious.