August 5

August 5

            There was a huge taste of reality waiting for me when I came back yesterday. Some nosy person noticed that my Prozac was pilling up. Instead of Janna taking care of the dirty word they had Mr. Mendel give me a ten-minute lecture on how dangerous abruptly stop taking an SSRI was. 

            He briefly went over all the crazy symptoms, but he also asked me why in the world I would choose to stop the Prozac.

            I chewed over my answer for a minute and simply said, “It doesn’t seem to help.”

            Dr. Mendel picked up my chart and gazed threw it. He looked like he was chewing, something he does when he thinks. “There’s no report of you saying anything. You know Miss Howard we’re not mind readers; we’ll never know what’s truly going on in your life. Another thing I think you should know is that Prozac works different in different people, though one thing is true. It helps bulimics. Maybe we’ll go up on the dose. “

            I nodded weakly. Once again I felt like trash and full of shame. Never in my life have I been a ‘trouble’ child and Dad sends me here all of the sudden and I don’t listen.

            Dr. Mendel told me that since I had stopped taking Prozac for a while they were going to have to build me up to the 40 mg. For the first three days I’ll take 10 mg, next week I’ll start on 20 mg and I should started the 40 mg on the 16^th.

            So I left hating myself, but yet I feel like I shouldn’t. I feel like I should remain strong. I wasn’t sure what emotions I should allow myself to feel.

            I’m 16 I should take the reasonability of my reactions head on, but I feel depressed with all that has happened.

            So during free time I walked up to Janna and said, “Can I go to Belle Hill’s office?”

            Janna looked at me with a puzzled look. “If there’s anything wrong you can always talk to me.”

            “No,” I harshly stated “I would rather talk to Belle Hill. She’s an...old family friend.” Then it hit me again that I was being rude. “If you don’t mind.”

            “Is she a friend of your dad’s?”

            As sweetly as I could I supplied “You can call him if you want to. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

            Janna pursed her lips. “She is a counselor for drag addicts, you know?”

            “I do, but that doesn’t matter. Don’t you think.”

            She sighed heavily and told me to be back before group therapy.

            I took my longer then I thought it would to find her office. I thought it was in the second floor, right wing, but it was in the left wing.

            The door was locked so I sheepishly knocked on it.

            “Come in!”

            I did as I saw told, but I felt too awkward that I stood in the doorway after opening the door.

            “Do you remember me?”

            She laughed lightly “I just met you yesterday and I know your dad. Why would I forget?”

            I smiled feebly.

            “Well c’mon. I’m glad you stopped by.” She looked back onto her computer and started typing. “Don’t mind me, I’m writing a paper.”

            I took four steps and stopped a photo that looked 30 years old. There was a man, women, and two girls standing in front of the Eiffel Tower.

            They all looked like they were trying to shield themselves from the sun. The smallest of them seemed to be hurt the most by the sun. She was wearing a pink girly dress and large bow and had pulled that bow down over her eyes.

            “That photo was taken of my parents, my sister and I.” Belle said when she looked up.

            “You visited France?”

            “Naw, more like lived there. I was born there and lived a half of my life so far there. My parents were missionaries.”

            She walked over to the frame and placed her finger onto the small girl. When she lifted it off there was a spot on the dust. “That is me.” Then after looking at her finger and cringing she added, “I need to dust it off.”

            Then she walked over to her desk. “So what’s up?”

            I cleared my throat once and then twice. I wasn’t too sure how I would start. “There are a few things… I feel like talking about.”

            “Like what?”

            So I sat down and started a spill my guts. I told her about how I had been skipping my medication and how I felt like it wasn’t helping me.

            I felt so silly confessing these things to her, but Belle just listened and responded with, “How do you know something might, or might work if you don’t try.”

            My eye narrowed and a spitted out “Yes I understand that, but an issue I face is that I need to feel better now. I hate struggling with this.”

            Belle silently nodded as if she’s heard this a million times. “Struggles make us better and stronger people. It even says so in Romans. You have to stick or you won’t learn what it means to earn something.”

            I too nodded slowly and without real meaning. “I just…”

            “Trust me, really.”

            I left soon after felling better. But then I turned around and raced back to her office.

            Without even knocking I opened the door and asked, “You’re not going to tell my dad are you?”

            She smiled. It was sweet and kind one at that. “Why would I do that? I’ll tell him that you’re alive and well.”

            I don’t know why I should trust her, but I did as soon as she said that.

Reviews

[PyroKitty24]

Loved this chapter~ I know I used to feel that way about my anti-depressants. Sometimes I still do, but at least now I know I should at least take them

[Tina Kline]

Those anti-depressants Prozac and all the others in that group are bad news. Dangerous in my opinion.Too bad so many people have had to suffer the negative affects to find out. I don't blame her for quitting them. It seems Belle is okay so far. Maybe she'll be someone helpful.

[Chris38]

Well Prozac never did me any good so don't know where I stand on that. Good chaptr though and Belle seems nice.

[trainwreck]

Belle is awesome. I'm glad you brought her back.