Diagnosis

https://steemitimages.com/DQmUcSwYyr5pCyk1NHLauvW1naj9Ymb6bJD1RVPHeaNiPrY/christopher-campbell-30253.jpg

Moderate depression and OCD were never words I thought would be used to describe me. Suddenly one finds themselves sitting across from a middle-aged woman with silver spectacles asking, “How do you feel?” I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. Standing alone in the shower to drown out the hot tears as my body buckles inward, leaning against the cold tiles I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.

I have never been such a liar. “Are you happy with me?” A twinge of guilt winds through my stomach as I muster a yes, wondering why I can’t just be happy with this person, in this house. I crack a smile and make sure that no one catches a glimpse of me as my face starts to fall, as my eyes wander deep in thought to the dark caverns where no one dares to go. I choke on these words yet they still beckon to hear yes I'm fine, yes I'm happy, yes I love you.

Photo credit Christopher Campbell