Jane's hand paused less than an inch away from the door to Doctor Bishop's office. She didn't know why. She didn't feel ashamed about seeing a therapist; mental health was just like physical health, something to be maintained and treated. When something wasn't feeling right, the first thing you did was see a professional. It all made perfect sense, but something was keeping her from knocking.
Maybe they could discuss that as part of the session, she decided, overruling her body's temporary reticence and rapping gently on the frosted glass. She waited for Doctor Bishop's warm, familiar voice to say, "Come in," before entering.
He greeted her with a delighted smile, as always. "Jane!" he said. "So nice to see you again. I was just finishing up a little paperwork." He closed his laptop and fixed his complete focus on her. Which wasn't unusual, but...normally, Jane enjoyed being the center of Doctor Bishop's attention, but today it felt oddly intimidating. She found herself wanting to hide behind something, or slip back out the door and tiptoe away down the hallway. More of that same anxiety that she was here to discuss, probably.
"So what can I do for you?" he asked, breaking into her train of thought. "We don't have a session scheduled, but I've got a little free time at the moment if you need to talk."
Jane shifted nervously. "I, I mean, it's probably nothing, but I just figured...I mean, if you don't mind working on a Saturday, I just..." She took a deep breath, trying to center her thoughts. "I just don't feel right, you know? Like the world doesn't make sense to me anymore. I thought maybe you could fix me up."
Doctor Bishop chuckled, gesturing to the recliner by his desk. "Now, Jane, we've talked about this." His voice felt so calming that Jane almost forgot she'd ever had any anxiety at all. "These sessions aren't about trying to 'fix you', they're about finding ways to shake off negative patterns of thought and behavior and steer you towards positive ones. Nobody who walks through my door is 'broken'," he said, gesturing to the door opposite the one Jane entered through, "they just need a little help finding their best self. That's what you want, isn't it?"
Jane didn't answer for a moment. She was busy staring at the door Doctor Bishop had just pointed to. Probably out of reflex-that was the door all his clients came through, normally. Jane half-turned to look at the door behind her, a momentary sense of disorientation passing through her like she was on the wrong side of a mirror. She didn't use the door he'd pointed to. She used the other door. She always used the other door. Why did she-
"Jane," Doctor Bishop said gently, his voice cutting through the confusion. "That is what you want, isn't it?" he repeated.
Jane blinked rapidly, shoving away her brief mental conflict. "I want to be my best self," she said, bolstering the self-affirmation with a forced smile. Usually, the smile wasn't forced at all-repeating her self-affirmations always gave her a sense of peace and inner tranquility that made her worries seem small and insignificant. But today, they weren't doing the trick. She was just glad Doctor Bishop wasn't too busy to fit her in.
"That's my girl," Doctor Bishop said. "Now, why don't you lie down on the couch and we'll talk about what's troubling you?" He gestured again to the recliner, and this time Jane followed the implicit suggestion.
"That's better," he said, as she made herself comfortable. He got up and adjusted the overhead lamp so that it was pointed at her face. "So what setting do you want to start with? You seem pretty agitated, I was thinking maybe a four, but we could go as high as six if you think you need it."
Jane stared up at the lamp, her tongue suddenly feeling thick and clumsy in her mouth. She knew about the lamp, of course, because Doctor Bishop used it in every session and it always helped break up those negative thought patterns before they could even form, but for some reason today the lamp seemed oddly menacing. It felt like it was staring back at her. She struggled to talk, and eventually managed to stammer out, "Could we, um...not? Today, I mean? With the, you know..." She waved her hand feebly at the lamp. "I don't know why, I just...don't want to."
Doctor Bishop gave her another warm smile. "Of course you don't have to, Jane. You know that you're always free to do whatever you want to do." He pressed a button, and the lamp's bulb flared briefly into warm, bright light before immediately dimming again. "I'll just leave this set on three, in case you change your mind, and you don't have to look at it if you don't want to."
Jane tensed involuntarily. She knew that Doctor Bishop was right-she didn't have to look at the light if she didn't want to, she never had to do anything she didn't want to. But she had a hard time ignoring it. It was just right there in front of her, drawing her eyes to it in a weirdly unavoidable way, and she felt like she would be much more comfortable if he would just-
The light pulsed. Jane blinked to clear away the spots, her train of thought momentarily disrupted by the distraction. "Um, okay," she said, trying to get back on track. "Three is fine." It really was fine, she told herself. She could always look away if she needed to. She never had to do anything she didn't want to.
"So, Jane," Doctor Bishop said, returning to his chair, "what seems to be the problem today? You said you felt like the world didn't make sense. You haven't been watching those telenovelas again, have you?"
