“I’m sorry,” he interrupted, “How old did you say you were?”
“12, in the middle of 6th grade. That’s a pretty shitty year to have your dad walk out, isn’t it?” I questioned. I laid down comfortably in his patient chair with my head towards the popcorn ceilings. “Those are poisonous you know.”
“What is?”
“Your popcorn ceilings. They carry asbestos.”
“Alison, stop, you’re digressing.”
“Hey, when you get mesothelioma or lung cancer just know I warned you. Anyways, my sister was 16 at the time. It explains our different reactions to the whole thing. Hannah was and has always been so angsty with that ‘stand up to the man’ attitude. Our dad leaving just unleashed her anger. She’s lucky.”
“How so?”
“She got her whole middle school and half of her high school over with. She was able to grow up the easy way with a seemingly loving family. She discovered art as her passion and now she’s in school for it. At least she was able to figure things out in a nontoxic home. She got through the rings before they were even set a blaze.” I paused for Dr. Hayes to finish writing in his notepad. His years in the profession made his face look like he was in a perpetual state of concern. You know what I mean, slightly squinted eyes, head tilt, mouth not too open but open enough to catch flies. He was recommended by the school as a psychoanalyst to help me.
“Would you say that you had a rough time? Growing up, figuring out things and all.”
“Well that’s why I’m here, isn’t it? To talk about why I experienced such a rough patch and figure out what’s wrong with me.”
“Nothing’s wrong with you, you’re here because your mother is concerned about your anxiety and panic attacks and we have to search for the cause.”
“By delving into my unconscious like a 7 year old in a ball pit?” He gave me a chastising look, putting me back in line. “Sorry, but don’t you think that if repressed a memory it was for a reason and it shouldn’t be brought to the surface?”
“Alison, if you would like to talk about the theory of the practice I would love to but now is not the time. Now, would you say you had a rough time?”
“You bet. Picture this, a mother who is a flight attendant so she’s gone frequently, an irrelevant dad, a sister who hates being at home so she stays with her friends all week, and then the 12 year old who is stuck at home to cook, clean, and care for herself in four to five day intervals. Now what the hell kind of childhood was that, don’t you think my father completely screwed me over?” I looked back at his face that was clearly at a loss for words. “Don’t worry that was rhetorical, but this isn’t, how the hell does laying here solve my petty daddy issues?”
“I’m not here to solve your daddy issues. I’m treating your anxiety and by doing so I’m looking at the probable causes.” Dr. Hayes scolded. 
“Well, then look back to my childhood. Lets just say my childhood was the rug that got pulled right out under me. I lost my childhood. The days I spent at home alone having to fend for myself were some of the hardest days of my life, no kid should go through it. I was forced to grow up and do things for my self. Instead of having pool parties and sleepovers with friends, I was at home reading, watching TV, taking care of the house, and trying to not slip away with my school work. After my sister left for college and my mom got a new boyfriend that was very kind and helpful, I thought I could make up for lost time.” My voice faded out. I could my stolid front starting to crack and wither.
“Make up for lost time? Elaborate.”
“I thought that I could be a kid again. I don’t know, I just tried to reject responsibility and act immature, like those years never happened. I stopped caring about school, I befriended a not so good group of people, and had this ‘just screw it’ attitude.”
“What changed, you seem completely different.”
“My perspective.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I meant exactly what said. My perspective changed. In 9th grade we went on a hiking trip lead by my English teacher. I was not excited because my lack of athleticism and hatred of school trips. My English teacher, Mr. Jameson, was telling us about the mountain we were to hike and all of this crap that I didn’t care about. The the discussions got deeper, they were about self discovery, finding out who you are in this massive world, and finding that awe-inspiring experience. On the trip, I brought a couple books with me. I hated reading, but I felt compelled to and it became a necessity. That wasn’t the only change. I started hanging out with some girls in my grade that are now my best friends. On the initial day of the hike, I felt a ball of anticipation roll through my body. It was like I could feel  an ultimate boon was about happen. The cool air fueled my will to keep going up the mountain.The worn path guided me to a change in my life. When I reached the peak, I took a step back and just stared. I was fixated of the view of what seemed like the whole world. I just had this sublime moment and I realized that no matter what anyone says or does to me, leave me or hurt me, it doesn’t matter, the world won’t give a damn so why worry about it, because in the grand scheme of things, this world is so great and so vast and I have the power to control what happens to me. I am such a small fraction of this whole world that it might not even matter what I do so whatever I do decide to do, it is my choice and it is my life and I shouldn’t go around wasting it by trying to hold onto my past. I just need to keep moving.” I took in a deep breath and exhaled out of exhaustion from what I told Dr. Hayes.
“And what have you discovered?”
“Well, we went back to school, my love for reading and writing ignited. English became my passion. Since my teacher was the one who inspired me, I decided I wanted to become a teacher so that I could inspire others as well.”
“What about your childhood that you tried to win back.”
“I didn’t want to be the next Holden Caulfield.” I joked.
“Ha, very true. When did you read that?”
“After the hiking trip. It was for school. That is when I learned I couldn’t hold onto childhood forever. I had my fall into adulthood and I feel hard on my ass the only thing left to do was recover.”
“Alaina tell me, when did you start having your panic attacks, how long have they been going on, and when go you get them?” Dr. Hayes asked.
“We just got over my story about how everything worked out and now you druge this up! I told you my life story and you give zero comments or recognition about how I came back from my lowest point.” I was enraged, it felt as if he could care less about my story and more about what to diagnose me with so that he could get that paycheck.
“Alison, why do you think you sit like that in a psychoanalysts office?”
“Um I don’t kn-”
“You’re smart,” he interrupted, “figure it out.” He said in a pissy tone assertive tone.
“So I’m consumed in my own thoughts.” I said with an uneasy shake in my voice.
“Wrong. You sit like that so we establish a sense of disconnect. You’re suppose to trust me, not forge a warm connection with. It sets a boundary so that the less you know about me the better so that you can tell me anything. I’m not your 9th grade English teacher that you can chat up and flirt wi-”
“Excuse you!” I shot up out of the chair with fire in my stomach, instantly interrupting him. “I’ll be damned if sit in this chair and listen to your bullcrap. My teacher was amazing in helping me through my rough times, you on the other hand haven’t done s*** to make me feel like I don’t have anything wrong with me! Where do you get the nerve to insinuate that I would be involved with my teacher?”
“Alison.”
“No, I’m not finished.” I yelled. “I’ve been having these panic attacks since 6th grade! they only started getting worse this year. My mom wants me to reach out to my father and I’m not ready and for the love of God he doesn’t deserve it! I have a whirlpool of stress and  I’m sick of my mom and my school thinking something is wrong with me!”
Dr. Hayes gently guided his hand to his buzzer, “Please send in Alison’s mother.” Five minutes later my mom walked in with her dirty blonde hair jumbled, yoga pants and white top. The typical outfit for when she she is rushing or stressed, she is in that outfit too frequently. My face was red from my yelling and irritation. It wasn’t hard to fill my short and small frame with anger. My brown eyes kept looking down, squinting in preparation for whatever Dr. Hayes might say.
“Is everything alright? Does she need any therapy? Any treatment?” My mom said. She was a worrier, so I didn’t blame her for asking such blunt questions.
“Yes, no, and no.” He started walking out. Suddenly, my mom moved in front of him and stopped him.
“What? You can’t just do that. What happened? Why is she having anxiety?” My mom further questioned.
“Ms. David, your daughter is fine. Anxiety is common. Why should you think anything is wrong with her? Your ex left the kid, do you sincerely think she’s never going to have any repercussions from that? I get it you’re avoiding your problems, it’s a mom thing, but you’re naive, not oblivious, so help Alison out and stop making her feel like she has an issue.”
“So she doesn’t need medication?”
“Medication is prescribed to people who can’t handle things themselves, your daughter is one of the most intelligent patients, a bit defensive and uncalled for at times, but never the less one of the most intelligent patients I’ve had. She can figure out how to control it herself. Oh, and Ms. David, spend sometime with her, you might learn something.”
My jaw dropped in utter shock. He was gone before I could tell him anything. My mother was embracing me tightly. “I’m sorry” was the only thing muttered in the bare asbestos filled office.