Page 39 of Christmas On Call
“Yes. I can’t stop myself playing these thoughts over and over again in my head. I know I have some kind of anxiety bubbling up.” Asha felt shame burning in her chest. “Even though Max is the one who pursued me first. Even though there’s no supervisory relationship. Even though we’ve been scrupulously professional at work. It doesn’t matter. People will assume differently.”
“Will they?” Doctor Brown asked. “Or are you assuming the worst about what people will assume?”
The question stopped Asha cold.
The therapist continued, her voice gentle but firm. “You’re catastrophizing, Asha. You’re imagining the absolute worst-case scenario and treating it as an inevitable fact. But you don’t actually know how people will react. You’re operating on fear, not evidence.”
“But I know how hospitals work,” Asha protested. “I know how people talk. I’ve seen other doctors—women especially—have their competence questioned because of their relationships. I’ve seen?—”
“What have you seen?” Doctor Brown interrupted. “Specifically. Not what you imagine might happen, but what you’ve actually witnessed.”
Asha opened her mouth, then closed it. She searched her memory, trying to find concrete examples. There had been gossip, certainly. Comments about Dr. Martinez when he’d started dating one of the surgical residents. Raised eyebrows when Dr. Simmons got engaged to a nurse from the ER.
But had either of them lost their jobs? Lost respect? Been demoted or overlooked for promotions?
No.
“I—” Asha faltered. “I don’t have specific examples.”
“Because hospital relationship disclosures are actually quite common,” Doctor Brown said. “And rarely result in thecatastrophic consequences you’re imagining. Yes, there might be some gossip initially. Yes, people might make assumptions. But if you and Max continue to conduct yourselves professionally—which it sounds like you already do—that gossip will fade. People will move on to the next thing. And if it helps, you’re not the first person in here with the problem, not by far.”
“But my parents?—”
“Your parents,” Doctor Brown said carefully, “are not your coworkers. The question of whether or not to come out to your family is separate from the question of filing this workplace disclosure. You can do one without the other.”
Asha blinked, the thought foreign and somehow revolutionary. “I don’t have to tell them, do I?”
Asha fiddled with her fingers, feeling her inner child breathe through her words. Afraid of getting it wrong. Afraid of being herself.
“Not right away. Not until you’re ready.” Doctor Brown’s expression was compassionate. “Asha, you’ve spent your entire life trying to be the daughter your parents wanted. The perfect, high-achieving, emotionally controlled daughter. But you’re an adult now, and at some point, you have to decide: are you living your life for them or for yourself? You know better than anyone that life is short.”
The words hit like a physical blow. Asha felt tears spilling down her cheeks before she could stop them.
“I don’t know how to live for myself,” she whispered. “I don’t know who I am without the performance. Without trying to be perfect.”
“Then maybe it’s time to find out,” Doctor Brown said gently. She reached for a box of tissues on the side table and offered it to Asha. “What do you want, Asha? Not what your parents want. Not what you think you should want. What do you actually want?”
Asha took a tissue, pressed it to her eyes. The answer rose up from somewhere deep and true, bypassing all her carefully constructed defenses.
“I want Max,” she said, and her voice broke on the name. “I want to wake up next to her and not have to hide it. I want to go to restaurants and hold her hand and not look over my shoulder. I want to be able to talk about her at work without panicking. I want—” She stopped, overwhelmed by the wanting. “I want to stop being so fucking scared all the time.”
“Then what’s stopping you?”
“Everything I’ve already said. My anxiety of being myself. Letting down the guard that keeps me safe.”
“Asha.” The therapist’s voice was firm but kind. “Those are all real concerns. I’m not dismissing them. But I want you to consider something—what’s the cost of choosing fear over love? And is the guard keeping you safe or stopping you from living?”
Asha looked up, confused.
“You’ve already experienced a preview,” Doctor Brown continued. “You suggested ending things with Max. You saw the hurt in her eyes. You felt the emptiness of your life without her. That’s what choosing fear looks like. Now imagine living that way for the rest of your life—always safe, always in control, always alone.”
The image was unbearable. Asha’s chest tightened with something that felt like drowning.
“I don’t want that,” she whispered.
“Then don’t choose it.” Doctor Brown leaned forward. “Here’s what I want you to understand: filing that disclosure doesn’t mean giving up control. It means exercising control—choosing what you want, setting boundaries, determining how you show up in the world. Right now, fear is controlling you. The disclosure is how you take that control back.”
“But what if?—”
