Counselor

Mya's clinical depression relapses so she seeks help from her teacher.

My history teacher is starting to notice a difference in me. I’m positive that’s why he gave us a lecture on depression. He started with “so there’s a girl in one of my classes that is often sad, quiet. She used be a very happy girl, but I’m not sure why she’s not anymore”, looking straight at me.

I brushed it off thinking I was seeing things, but then he asked me to stay after class. Great. So it was directed at me. I didn’t want to, but it was either sit through after school or before class next time. May as well get it over with now.

I stayed in my seat after the bell. Mr. Bain came up me.

“Hi, Mya. What’s going on? Or can you even say?”

“It’s just my past has come back to bite me.”

“Meaning?”

“Um . . .” I wasn’t sure how much I could tell without saying too much, “Just break up drama combined with the usual weekly fights at my house and my past of depression . . . just don’t mix well.”

“Fights like? Anything physical?” he sounded extremely concerned like if he needed to call the authorities he’d do it right then.

“No, thank God. Just arguments. They can just get intense.”

“Oh, okay. Well, what’s going on with the break-up stuff? And depression?”

“I’ve just had depression since seventh grade and even with the doctor’s diagnosis, my parents don’t think it’s a problem. My now ex used to be the only person who would let me express everything . . . but now that I don’t have him, my support system is gone . . .” I knew it didn’t help that I was now helping out Megan, but I wasn’t about to express that. I knew no one would understand why I’m even doing it.

“Well, I’m not sure relying on someone like a teenage boy is a smart idea, but I’m not sure what to say. Have you seen your counselor?”

“Yeah, I just . . .  don’t really . . .”

“Feel comfortable with it?”

I nodded.

“And your parents won’t help you at all?”

“None.”

“Jeez,” he ran a hand over his short brown hair, then covered his whiskered mouth thinking, “Hmm . . . the only thing I could do is offer my own help . . . letting you come in for lunches if you ever needed someone to talk to, but that’s all up to you.”

“I’ll think about it . . .”

“But let me know before you come in, so I can be here.”

“Okay . . . won’t you get in any kind of trouble for this?”

“No. My job is to help students,” he smiled.

I nodded. Well, I thank the Lord someone to bring me peace from depression and family problems. I had to be on my own with the situation with Alex and Megan. It was my own secret between Megan and I. Well, my secret. I don’t know about her.

“Thanks,” I tried to make a smile, but my muscles failed.

He got me into talking about my home life. I didn’t tell him how bad it really was, but I told him some of the stuff I feared about my house. He and I agreed that wasn’t bad enough for the law to be involved, thank God. Less drama.

I didn’t think I’d walk out happy, but I felt inches better. Life felt tolerable.