Page 20 of Afterglow
I flip them both off, but a grin forms. This day is exactly what I need.
Chapter 10
Jazmine Allen
Therapist appointments are daunting.
It doesn’t matter what stage of healing I’m in, every time I walk through the whitewashed hallway to Dr Gray’s office, my stomach churns. Butterflies form in my gut, flying into my chest as if their goal is to stop my heart. Or maybe my lungs. It isn’t a fun experience.
Friday mornings are the only time I have to schedule appointments, so like clockwork, I sit on a navy couch pouring my emotions out to mytherapist.
“Jazmine,” Dr Gray says, nodding to me. “How have you been?”
The dreaded question. How does one answer this? Dr Gray banned the word ‘fine’ from her office after I used it too much. Emotions are hard to express, especially when you don’t want to break down and embarrass yourself.
As a psychology student, I know the thought is irrational but after years of feeling this way, it becomes a way of life. In the past, I’d compare myself to my brother who seemed to be successful at everything he did. I know better now.
Healing is something you have to do for yourself.
“I’ve been busy, all my classes are becoming pretty intense,”
Dr Gray nods, scribbling something in a notebook. She is a middle-aged woman, who also studied psychology at Lakewood University. It was the first subject we bonded over. It’s been over five months since our first appointment together and I’ve opened up more than I have with anyone.
“Are you taking care of yourself though? What is your sleep schedule like?”
Damn this woman. She knows me too well. I dart my gaze toward an open window, searching for anything interesting to distract myself with. At least until I can think of an answer.
“It’s messy,” I begin, cracking my knuckles—one by one, on each hand. Another one of my coping mechanisms or maybe it’s a nervous tick. Either way, it relieves some of my stress.
“Last night was good, I think it was around seven hours. But the night before was only five,”
For once, it didn’t take three hours to fall asleep and I didn’t wake up at random times throughout the night. This morning, I felt rested. No lingering fatigue weighing my shoulders down or tension straining my muscles.
“Are you sticking with only one coffee a day?” Dr Gray asks, raising an eyebrow.
I swallow, remembering all my late-night study sessions over the past couple days. “I may have had a one slip up,” Not a total lie although it was more like three slip ups.
“And how is your relationship with food progressing?”
I roll my eyes. Despite what my therapist thinks, I don’t have an eating disorder. I just forget to eat. Not on purpose either, as in I become so focused on a task and eating slips my mind.
Last year, one of my subjects was identifying and assessing symptoms of a neurodivergent brain, which made me consider getting assessed for ADHD, after I realised, I tick most of the boxes.
The session continues for an hour. Dr Gray expresses concern about my schedule as there is a potential to overwork myself. But I dismissed her. I know my body. At the moment, everything is fine.
I’m even going to a party with Sofia and Athena this weekend, which I never do. In freshman and a little bit of sophomore year I did, but now with the stakes of junior year, I won't have time after thisweek.
Finally, I leave Dr Gray’s office and drive to campus forCognitive Psychology, it is my only class today. Everything is relatively close, so I arrive at the lecture theatre ten minutes early. As it is one of my core courses for junior year, Theodore isn’t here, which allows me at least two hours of peace and quiet.
This class is taught by Dr Kendra Yang, my favourite professor. She is always providing me with opportunities to network and expand my scope of learning.
Last year, we travelled to New York for a conference that discussed the future of medicine. Not only did I interact with sports psychologists but other medical professionals.
Another reason Dr Yang is my idol is her dedication to encouraging more women to go into medicine. In the past, any internships or work experience I gained were useless. It probably makes me sound ungrateful, but the only task I was given was to fetch coffee. Never had I been more insulted.
I snap my hairband against my wrist where a bruise is forming, the pain bringing my attention back to the lecture. It is one coping mechanism I don't share with Dr Gray.
Time passes quickly as I annotate the PowerPoint slides I downloaded onto my iPad before class. Most of my writing would seem like scribble to a normal person. I’m already dreading retyping them. I fold my case over the screen and pack it into my tote bag.
