The First Session

The morning light poured upon me like an oven. It was ridiculously hot out today, yet I knew I had to attend the therapy session that awaits me. I was recently released from FairWeathers Mental Institution, the worst mental hospital possible in Vermont. I had been there for over six months, attending the highest amount of treatment. I thought it was utter bullshit. Granted my sanity wasn't fully in check, although that did not mean I had to be stuck in some horrid hospital for half a year. Absolute bullshit.

Oh, where are my manners. My name is Finley. Finley Weisberg. I'm 22 years old and I currently live at home with my mother. I had a psychotic breakdown and stabbed myself at a mall. I was put into a mental hospital to be treated. Although my negative attitude while there earned me more time. Today is the first day of my post-Hospital therapy. The doctors wanted me to see a therapist for the next three months to make sure I'm doing okay outside of the hospital since they couldn't have their intruding eyes all over me. I don't know much about my therapist that I'll be seeing, I just know she's a transfer from New York. Apparently her father owns the clinic she's interning at.

Absolute rubbish if you ask me. I did not care about her or her father's position. I just wanted this over so I could begin college. I wasn't deemed sane enough to attend this year. Once I finish this therapy, I am allowed to Re-enroll. Anywho, enough talking to myself, it was time to get ready. Mother would be calling up to me any moment now if I wasn't up soon. I hate that I made her worry about me. She deserved a better son. Sadly I was all she could get. She wasn't able to conceive children for years, that's what my father told me. Then one day she found out she was two months pregnant. Alas, it was with this disappointment of a son right here. Her "god" shouldn't have gifted her with a mistake such as I.

I opened my top drawer and pulled out my favorite white button up shirt along with my favorite pair of black jeans. Yes it was hot out, but I wouldn't dare leave the house without this beautiful outfit. At least the button up was a short sleeve. I wouldn't overheat and die on my way there. Even though that does sound a bit promising. . .
Where was I? Oh yes, getting dressed. I laughed to myself, I always manage to lose track of things happening around me. I just finished looping my belt to the tightest setting. I was a very frail boy. Pale skin, very slim, short platinum blond hair with my sides shaved. I feel like my look makes my blue orbs shine brighter. My eyes have always been my favorite feature. No one could convince me otherwise. Not like I'd give someone the time of day to speak to me. I may not be the most mentally stable, but that does not mean I had to talk to the commoners around me. I was not like them. I am me. I am Finley.

I walked down my small flight of stairs to arrive into the living room. Dad was watching television while our family cat cuddled up next to him. I couldn't help but smile. I loved that cat. She was the sweetest Russian Blue I had ever met. I was pulled out of my thoughts as I heard my mother's voice. "Oh honey you're up on time! Thank goodness. Could you give mommy a helping hand with breakfast?" I made my way over to the kitchen and grabbed the hot pan from the stove and began seasoning the omelette my mother was cooking. I knew it was for my father. He had an omelette every morning and I usually seasoned it because I knew my father loved the way I made it. Mom always told me I could be a great chef someday. Even if that is true, it isn't what I want. I wanted to attend college for Psychology. That does seem pretty silly. A mentally Ill person talking to other mentally Ill people? Mother always encouraged it. She told me it would help me find myself. Dad of course wanted me to do something more like him. He was a cop. That wasn't really my thing. I was interested in the mind. I loved to see how they worked. I loved to observe humans and the way they think and the things they'd do in certain situations.

I finished helping mom with breakfast and kissed her goodbye. I grabbed my black fedora and walked out the front door. This would help me block the harmful rays from this sun. I looked at my wrist watch as I opened my car door. 9:36am it read. I had twenty four minutes to get to my therapy session. I don't even recall where they place was located. I knew it wasn't too far, I just had never been there. I started up my car and pulled out of the driveway. This session better not be completely horrid.

I arrived at the clinic with just five minutes to spare. I went up to the front desk and rang the little bell they had. This overly happy chubby lady came back to her seat and smiled brightly at me. "Hello young man. Can I help you?" I smiled at her. "I have a session with Dr.Barnsley at 10am" I spoke softly. I may think I'm better than most, but my demeanor sure does say otherwise. The overly enthusiastic woman smiled at me again, "she'll be with you in one moment, have a seat dear." I nodded my head softly and made my way to an open seat. There weren't many people here. This clinic was actually quite small. It was just a little beige building near an elementary school. This must have been a towns Community Center or something because they had a hall that led to a pool area and a basketball court. The kids must come here after school often. Great. I'm going to a kids therapist.

"Mr. Weisberg?" A soft yet cheerful voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked up to meet eyes with a rather tall girl. She was wearing a white blouse and a long black pencil skirt. She looked very professional, besides the fact that her hair was a shoulder length pastel pink. How odd. I stood up and followed the woman back to her office. It was rather small. There was two small couches. A plastic plant in one corner, and children's toys in another. The walls were a salmon color, while the carpet was black. Very odd of a room. At least to me. I sat down on the couch that was across from her desk. If you listened closely, you could hear ocean sounds and calming music playing from her phone that sat plugged in on her desk. No family pictures were displayed. No husband or boyfriend? No kids? Not even a picture of her father? I mean, he did help her get this job after all.

"Hello, Finley. My name is Dr. Barnsley. But you can call me Skye. I received your papers from FairWeather this morning. Could you tell me anything about yourself? What do you like to do for fun?" I smirked. This woman didn't care. She sounded like a tape recording. "I like to hurt myself for fun. Why bother asking? You have my papers. Why not just read them. They'll tell you what you need to know." I expected this lady to glare at me, but instead she laughed. "I didn't want to read your papers because they aren't words from you right now. People's interests change constantly. Is there anything else you can tell me about yourself?" What was with this lady? I don't know what kind of things I'm into. She seemed so unprofessional to me. "Ugh, I mean, I like to play guitar. I'm good at checkers. And my mom says I'm pretty good at cooking." The words came out of my mouth before I had time to stop them. I didn't mean to tell her all of that. She didn't deserve to know. She especially didn't deserve to hear about my mother.

The session felt like forever. Filling out safety plans and emergency contacts. Such typical first day stuff. Therapist lady wasn't completely terrible once time had passed by. She wasn't alright, but she wasn't awful. So I guess it wouldn't be horrible seeing her a second time. I had to see her again next week at the same time. I wasn't looking forward to it in the slightest. "So that's everything for today, Finley. I'll be seeing you again next week. Would you mind bringing in something of great value to you so you can share it at our next session?" Great value? Like what? I couldn't bring a knife because I'd surely be thrown back into the looney bin for that. What could I even treasure enough to bring? And why just me? That's a little one sided. Before I could even think, the words melted off my lips like ice cream, "you have to bring something too. I want to know what you treasure as well." Once the words I spoke processed in my mind, my face heated up. Did I really just say that!? My face was beat red, and all this woman could do was smile at me. "Of course I will! That's so very smart of you Finley." Her praise made my stomach feel weird. I didn't like it. She made my heart beat fast, but in a horrible way. Was she making me anxious? Who was Skye Barnsley?