"Life is about the present moment. We aren't at all certain what the future holds, what will the next hour bring or even the next second," the woman exclaimed while setting her pen on her blue clipboard.

"Yes, but don't we have to question the future? Don't we have to plan things ahead before they happen so we can handle them easier?"

Angela huffed and shifted in her seat as the therapist only smiled at her. She respected her, she respected Dr. Hawthorne, but she sometimes couldn't stay quiet. Her ideas sometimes seemed so far away from Angelas', it was almost frightening.

"That's true, but what you are doing is called a thinking trap."

"A thinking trap?" Angela seemed confused upon the name, though it somehow made sense. A thinking trap, it was a trap for thoughts, she thought silently. Oh, how silly it sounded.

"Yes. It is very common among us all," the therapist nodded to her question. She looked calm, a faint smile on her face as she watched Angela. Her demeanor was always calm and understanding, which Angela liked. She put up with her cusswords, her tears and her anger. She knew how to handle Angela in a complete nonchalant way.

"So then why do I need therapy for it and others don't?" Angela hummed after some time of silence. Her legs were crossed, her foot swinging left and right in an anxious way, though she felt comfortable with her therapist.

"Because you do it excessively." Dr. Hawthorne only confirmed what Angela already knew, but asked anyway. Though that wasn't the only reason she needed therapy for.
"It's okay, Anna. Our mind sometimes wanders to some places of which we have no control of. We call it passive thinking. It is hard to shut it down. But we can l-"

"Then how do you expect me to stop doing it if I can't control it?" Angela quickly interrupted, her hand gripping the handle of the armchair she sat in.

"We can learn it. We can acknowledge it and say to ourselves: 》Stop, now is not the time for this. I can think about it later.《" The therapist simply replied to her question, completely unbothered by the fact that she was interrupted. Her posture was calm, leaning back in her chair, her legs crossed to the side like a princess would sit in her dress, her clipboard resting on her thigh along with the pen.

Angela only hummed at the response, looking out the window where a branch of a big beautiful tree was. The leaves were growing, and it was spring. Angela hoped to see a squirrel at some point there since she was at Dr. Hawthornes' office so many times. Angela sat there, her foot still hurridly swinging left to right, as she didn't look away from the window. Dr. Hawthorne just watched her, her breathing steady and the slight but soft smile remaining on her face.

A minute went by with them both being completely silent. Angela didn't move her eyes away from the branch, and Dr. Hawthorne kept her focous on her patient. It was quiet and calm in that room, the only sound being the clock, ticking the seconds away from the whole hour Angela was there.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Hm?" Angela hummed at the question, glancing at her therapist and tapping her fingers on the armrest.

"What is happening in your head right now?" Dr. Hawthorne leaned her head to the side and picked up her pen.

What was happening? Angela didn't know. Her mind was empty yet loud. It seemed like no active thought went through her head, but at the same time there were so many things rushing through her mind, it was hard to keep focous on them.

"I don't know."

The therapist stayed silent, leaving Angela room for her answer. Though Angela had nothing else to add. She didn't know what was happening in her head.

Stupid. This was all just stupid. Angela came here once a week to talk about things, things that shouldn't even bother her. Things she should pay no attention to. Things that to others seem normal, every day tasks and thoughts, but to Angela they were nightmares. Writing an email, answering a call, talking to the cashier at the store at the checkout, going to the pharmacy...

She wished things would be easier, she wished her every day tasks would not leave her completely exhausted and anxious. She wished she would be able to think about her plans for the day and not get scared if she would be able to pull it off. Simple practicing of her instrument sucked the life out of her. One hour. Not even one hour she couldn't focous on the black notes on a white paper. She couldn't focous on the instrument she fell in love with when a little girl. She couldn't do anything.

"What are you thinking about?" The woman asked again.

The question made Angela suck in a sharp breath, her therapist's voice breaking the chain of thought that was slowly getting stronger in Angela's head.

"Oh, um..." Angela tapped nervously on the armrest with her fingers, her foot swaying anxiously from left to right more than before. "I don't know."

"That's alright. Sometimes we simply can't comprehend what our head is thinking."

"Yeah," Angela simply replied, stopping with the tapping and clenching her hand into a fist. "I guess."

The therapist leaned her head now on the other side and glanced at the newly clenched fist, resting on the armchair. "What about your injuries? Have you self harmed in these two breakdowns you told me about?"

Self-harm. Right. The doctor knew about that. Angela never showed it to her, only talked about it. It was supposed to be a one time thing, where Angela tried it because she saw it on the internet that it helps, then she would stop. But soon, she realized that in her weakest moments, in her breakdowns, the blood and the pain were the only thing that helped her stop the vicious cycle of her thoughts.

"No."

The therapist's smile grew a bit as she took a note, but Angela only shifted in her seat uncomfortably, her chest aching at the fact how proud the woman seemed upon her answer.

"Actually, yes." Angela sighed and closed her eyes, her head leaning against the wall of which the armchair was set next to. "I have."

Dr. Hawthorne only added a small note to her previous one then turned her attention back to her patient. "Why did you lie?"

Angela's foot stopped shaking for a moment upon the question, before continuing its action from before. "Because..."

"Because what?"

"Because I felt felt like I needed to say no."

"Why?"

Angela huffed. So many questions in such a small time. Why? Because it felt like that was the correct answer. Because it felt like she needed to say no in order to get better. Because she felt like that answer would make her therapist happy. Because she thought it would make Angela happy.

Because she was embarrassed.

"I don't know," Angela replied quietly, her finger now continuing to tap against the armrest and her foot swaying from left to right. Maybe she wasn't as relaxed as she thought. Though it felt like she was safe there. Fortunately.

"Okay," her therapist softly replied and offered her a small smile. "That's okay."

Angela sat there quietly, her eyes now focousing back on the window. Each time she was in that room, she wanted to lie so bad. Why was it so hard to tell the truth? Why was it so hard to find answers to very simple questions. Why was the pressure of always being on top of the game, always okay and always enough so strong? Why wasn't she able to fall apart and let herself go without anyone asking her if she was okay, or what was going on in her mind.

There were times where Angela was sure that life before therapy was easier. At least then she didn't know what was wrong with her, not really. Though even now, even after the diagnostics, pinpointing what was wrong with her seemed confusing, stupid and pointless. When you have a broken arm, you know where it hurts, you know what caused it more or less and you know how to fix it and how long it will take. With depression and anxiety, like in Angela's case, you can't point to where it hurts. The head and the chest maybe, depends on how a person feels. But you don't know why, how, how long and how to fix it. You are completely in the dark.

Dr. Hawthorne checked the time and sighed softly before turning around, reaching to her small callendar on her desk and bringing it to her legs. "So, to repeat what we agreed upon. Five sentences on what you would say to a person who tried their best at their tasks and please, try to do meditation, whichever you prefer, at least once a day."

Angela nodded and uncrossed her legs, already prepared to leave the office.

"Yes." Her answers were quick and short, with her mind much rather being somewhere else than there.

"Would Tuesday at seven thirty work for you?"

"Yes, no problem." Angela nodded again and tapped it in her phone so she wouldn't forget. Thank god for her phone, she would be lost without it. As probably every adult at this point.

"Alright then. You take care of yourself," the therapist looked at Angela and stood up slowly.

"You too. Good day," Angela smiled and reached for the door handle. And with that she was out of the one hour long conversation with a paid doctor.

Nice.

********

Hello,

This is the first chapter of my book Actually, no. I hold this book very dear to my heart and I hope you will like it.

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Thank you for reading.