Page 3 of With All My Heart, Joy

“Even if she did—and I’m not saying she did—I want to hear it from you.” There was a twinkling quality to his dark eyes, and despite the now-serious nature of their conversation, Joy’s nerves melted away. There was something about this man. She felt it the day they met. And she was feeling it now.

Comfort. She felt comfortable in his presence. More than that, she felt comfortedbyhis presence. Just like Victor.

Momentary concern for her brother derailed her thoughts. Something was up with him. He hadn’t been replying to her text messages lately, and when she finally caught him by phone yesterday, he put off her demand for an explanation and changed the subject.

“Joy?”

Mr. Miller waited patiently, and she forced her mind away from her beloved oldest brother. Why did he have to live in Lansing? Surely that didn’t help her depression.

“I’m here because I’m depressed all the time.”

“What makes you say you’re depressed?”

Joy looked at her hands. “Because I’m sad, I cry, I have no energy, I have trouble getting out of bed, you know… Stuff like that?”

“How long have you been feeling this way?”

She lifted her head, eyeing the wall in thought. “Since my freshman year of college.”

Mr. Miller studied her quietly. “That was four years ago, correct?”

She nodded.

“Four years is a long time to feel like that.”

Four years was aneternityto feel like that. Joy swallowed, but nothing stopped the pressure building in her throat, in her chest, behind her eyes. “Yeah,” her voice squeaked. “Four years is a long time.”

Mr. Miller’s face was a picture of compassion as he reached for a tissue box on a small table beside him, standing to pass it to her. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you didn’t let it become five years or more. Let’s get this depression under control, shall we? Let’s get your joy back, Joy.” He paused, then let out a boyish grin that rendered him much younger than he probably was. “Your name is way too fun.”

As a tear plummeted over her bottom eyelid and made its freefall down her face, Joy laughed weakly and reached for a tissue. “I was tormented over my name when I was younger. Middle school boys are charming.”

“I have no doubt. I was one once.” Mr. Miller clasped his hands, resting them on his knee. “You have options on how you want to move forward. I can refer you to a psychiatrist, who would make a clinical diagnosis after a mental health evaluation. That would allow you to get on mood-altering medication. Or you could start with counseling and lifestyle changes. Or you could do a mix of it all, medication and counseling.”

Joy chewed the inner edge of her lip. “Which do you recommend?”

“I’ve had clients who go both ways. My preference is to go through a few counseling sessions before recommending a client start medication. Antidepressants have their place—a lifesaving one—but they do come with side effects, so I don’t refer clients lightly.”

Joy rubbed her thumbs together, her four remaining fingers linked loosely. “Let’s focus on the counseling first.”

“I’m good with that.” His smile warmed her like the hot soup she’d had for lunch before coming here. “Lucy tells me you’re an Internet star. Can you tell me what a typical day is like for you?”

Internet star. Spoken like a true millennial. “I’m an influencer. I have a large following on Instagram, just starting on TikTok, and I also have four successful YouTube channels.”

His eyes widened, as round and dark as chocolate truffles. “Four?”

“Yep. And a blog.”

“How do you manage all of that?”

“It’s…pretty crazy.” He nodded at her to continue, and she found herself talking for the next twenty minutes. She couldn’t stop until it all came out, like a clogged drain that was, at last, free of blockage.

She spoke of the stress of developing constant content, the trolls who viciously attacked her every post, the chronic worry about her stats and if she was doing enough to outperform her competition—and keep bringing in money.

“If I’m not retaining my audience, I won’t keep my sponsors. And that’s my lifeblood right there. That’s how I pay my bills.”

His eyebrows dipped. “You live with your parents, don’t you?”

“Not anymore.” Pride and a hefty dose of fear filled her chest, fighting for dominance of the space she needed for her very breath. “I moved into my own place this week.”

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