"So how're you feeling today Mr Seki?" I asked, looking at the young man who sat reclined on my chair.
He was in his late teens, probably early twenties, he didn't really specify his age and he had the body set of a young man yet a face and eyes of sometimes who has seen all the ugly things of life didn't help to incredibly narrow my estimations.
He took a long time to answer, he almost always did, taking an average of twenty to thirty seconds before giving out his standard response.
"I'm tired."
I dropped my notes and looked at him. This time was different.
We've been having sessions like this for over three months, over forty times have I heard him say he's tired. Yet this time I actually heard it loud and clear in his voice.
I steadied myself, trying to keep my voice as neutral as possible, not wanting to influence him in any way.
"Why are you tired?" I asked him back.
He breathed out and turned the other way in the chair. Folding his knees in a half fetal position.
He showed no intention of saying anything and I was about to go closer to check if he slept.
"It's not normal physical tiredness." He began speaking suddenly.
"It's not something you can fix with pills or a good night's rest. Nor is it something so extreme yet that you're contemplating ending it all over the next skyscrapers you can find."
"This is something worse than that. It's like a fog, one so spread out yet so thick that you're in this constant dreary state."
He sat up and looked at me.
"Can you imagine how it feels?"
"Always tired? When you couldn't care less to ask about someone because of the fact that the conversation might get too long or go in too deep and the person starts expecting something stressful from you."
"No. I can't say I can imagine what it feels like." He looked at me with a puzzled look.
"You pretty much pulled the words right out of my mouth."
"I'll let you in on a little secret." I said to him while closing my book.
"Before one truly excels in her job, it means she must've been part of it."
"Before a doctor can heal someone, she must know how it feels to be sick, she must've been sick before, if not she can never truly understand."
He stared at me now. His eyes showed that he was truly interested, and it's the first time that I've ever noticed him staring at me with such interest.
"So how did you do it?" He asked.
"How did you get well?"
I closed my eyes and thought about it for a moment, now that I held his attention, I didn't want to squander it on some bad off the textbook advice.
My idea of therapy is when the doctor makes a connection with the student and whether by fate or chance this connection has been made.
"Ma'am?" He prompted me.
"I can't really say I did." I responded back.
"What?"
I stood up from my chair and walked to the flower vase by the window, the conversation had gotten too heavy for me to sit through.
"Life back then was dreadful, I was in my late teens, a wide-eyed author ready to get her first series published and hit it big."
"Life was quick to show me the difference between fiction and reality."
I caught myself remembering the tiredness I felt then.
Long hours writing and rewriting just for editors and publishing companies to trash and shred my manuscripts.
"It was a long ride before I managed to get up here."
I turned and walked towards him holding a flower I picked from the vase.
"It was a long, very tiring ride. Yet the fact that I got to the point where I could help you means that I didn't stop riding."
"I didn't let the tiredness weigh me down so much that I rolled up and stopped moving. I kept on riding while tired." I handed him the flower.
"And now you need to do so too."
Mr Seki looked at me for a long time, and I myself started to rethink this approach.
"I don't think I can." He answered by dropping the flower on the bed and turning back to lie down.
"You have to try." I said, urging him.
He kept quiet till the alarm rang, signifying the end of our session.
Quietly he slid out of the couch and walked towards the door. I watched him quietly, hoping at the very least that a bit of what I said sticks with him.
He shows no signs nor says anything as he opens the door, walks out and shuts it behind me. It took all of my restraint to stop myself from walking out, chasing after him.
Almost like clockwork, another person entered the room, just in time for her own session.
Header Image captured by me
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Hello @seki1 my young friend. I think you are very stressed with school and other pressures. This story is a good way to get that out. I wish I could take my old head and my old self, come there, and lift you up. But nobody can do that.
To say I've been there doesn't help you. I do like something the therapist said in the story. Keep moving. In the past (even in the present), when I have a mood...oh yes, I get moods... I move. I just do something. I almost kick myself into action. When I was in my twenties I would walk, fast, for miles. That always helped. Move.
I hope the stressful days end soon for you. There will always be stress, but you have taken on a very challenging course of study. It will be over and you will be jubilant. Let me know when that happens.
Your 'old' (as in aged)😇 friend, AG.
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Thanks for that. It has been a stressful ride filled with numerous hiccups and walls.
I am indeed tired but I'm moving cause I refuse to stop and it'll be an insult to my efforts to go back.
One step at a time, bruised, battered and almost out of my mind, trudging on.
Also hit my double decade today.
Crazy times, the age isn't as much of a transformation as I thought it'll be.
Or maybe cause I'm just a few hours in?
Is that just a story, or did you share one of the stories from your daily therapy practice?
Pretty interesting it was. Looked like you grabbed his attention for a brief period, but it didn't last longer!
Will he return for the therapy again?
!ALIVE
#bbh
Fiction lad...
But sometimes the realms of fiction and reality does mix.
I don't go to therapy though, it's not a regular service in my country and quite frankly I think I'm too tired to go...
Oh well.
“The fact that I got to the point where I could help you shows I didn't stop riding.”
The above. It hits different.
But I believe, Seki didn't just leave the office, the words are stuck someone within, taking every step with him.
This is a beautiful one.