My Non-Problem

March 31, 2010
By Anonymous

“So are we going to talk, or sit here all day?” She asks me in an impatient but kind way. She’s really young, probably just starting her career; you can kind of tell by the way she dresses. She’s wearing dark gray pants that have black pin stripes on them; her white short sleeved button-up blouse is unbuttoned low enough to see the top of her bra. She still has the same style as most college students have when they’re trying to look professional. It’s not like the usual therapist outfit where they try to cover up every inch of their skin because they’re afraid they’ll catch the problems of their clients.

She should know I’m not going to talk; I’m not here voluntarily, my parents made me come because they think I have a problem. I don’t have a drug problem; I was just fixing my problem with drugs. I thought I did it in a good way too, no one would even know if Clay would have kept his mouth shut.

Clay’s my best friend; I know he just cares for me. We’ve been best friends since we were eight, that’s when I moved here. I’m just sorry that I put him in that situation where he feels like he betrayed me. I was mad but I’m not anymore. Clay’s the one who told my parents, when he found out I was taking speed and caffeine pills he was pretty disturbed by the whole idea. I know it’s only because he cares about me, I would do the same for him.

“Jack… your parents don’t want me to let you leave until you’ve talked about what’s brought you to take these drugs. And please Jack, silence kills me… I would never judge you.” I kind of want to open up to her now, maybe it’s because she is so young and I feel like she’s really sincere. Out of all the therapists that my parents will hire to help me, she would be the one to tell and I wouldn’t feel judged.

“I know.” I take a deep breath and sigh. “Well, let me just say that I don’t have a drug problem, I’m not addicted and I definitely can stop, I just need to do this. It helps.” I don’t really know how to explain my non-problem, but this works.

“Jack, this is not a rehab center, I’m not here to fix your “non” drug problem.” Oh yeah, I forgot. Maybe I should save that speech for the rehab center that my parents are sending me to in a week. Maybe a few days in there will prove to everyone that I don’t have a drug problem, there will be no signs of withdrawal, and then they’ll all see.

“Why do you take these drugs?” She asks in a kind, sensitive way. I wonder if she’s this caring with all her patients. I’m going to like this way more than rehab, she’s not here to stop me from taking pills, she’s just here to figure out why I take them.

“Look—I’ve been reading, writing and playing video games for four days, nonstop. I need to graduate this year; if I fail again my parents will take away everything. This is the only way to keep me doing well in school, I get good grades and I’m doing great on the lacrosse team, so what does it matter?” I’m hoping she’s going to understand this and recommend that I don’t have to go to rehab longer than the week that I have to go to next week.

“Wait—Jack, did you say that you’ve been up for four days? Is this because you can’t sleep?” She seems really excited about this and I’m happy because this seems like it’s going to end my way.

“Yes, I can’t sleep at night, I’m nocturnal or something! And unfortunately school takes place during the day. Therefore I take the pills in order to stay up during the day for school and lacrosse.”

She keeps smiling. I like her smile, it has that warmness to it that makes you want to trust her with her life, and it has that hint of hope that will help many people because she cares. We sit there in silence for ten minutes, and then she leaves the room.

When she comes back she looks like there’s an excited 12 year old about to jump out of her skin. This makes me smile, I wish I still had a kid inside of me; it seems to make the little things in life exciting.

“What’s with the smile, Dr. Glass?” I’m really curious, I want to know what’s going on in her head and obviously she wants to get inside mine. I’m not developing a crush on her, I just really feel like she’s the only person that I can open up to and feel completely comfortable.

“So I have great news, you won’t have to come here again or possibly rehab.” That’s what that smile is all about.


“Your problem isn’t with drugs, its insomnia, you will get prescription drugs to help you with it and there will be no need for rehab or my therapy. I just called your parents and they suspected it, that’s why they sent you to me before rehab. You’re saved Jack! You can be happy again!” She’s definitely way too excited about this, no therapist gets this excited about helping a boy like me. This is definitely the start in her career in therapy. “Well you may go now.”

I don’t want to leave, I want to open up more, but she’s done what she was told to do and now it’s time for me to leave. Right before I exit her office I manage to say:

“Um… would it be alright if I come back next week? I’ll still pay.”

“Yea, I’d like that.” She smiles again, that same warm, hopeful smile that makes you want to spill out in front of her. I’ll save that for next week.

The author's comments:
for class we had to look at a post card and write a story about that post card and this is part two of that post card.

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