Marigold's Garden

Honey Suckle

      
You know what's so crazy about being crazy. Everyone is convinced they know what your sanity is. But despite my previous misadventures of mental break downs, suicide attempts, a hair cut, and being a premeditated arson. I felt.... sane.

But not fixed.

Which explains why I'm in therapy.

I sat on the sofa bed, my posture as stiff as a board on the edge of the couch.My legs crossed brushing against the light martial of my skirt. I could tell Dr.Kim was taken in my new appearance, didn't speak but instead scribbled it into his notebook.

Dr.Kim was a strange of kind strange. And strangely enough, he really didn't care for my comfort. It seemed as if he had a method for each patient, to drive them mad.For the women during the session after me he liked to play with time, it was always five minute, five minutes later, or five minutes earlier sometimes he was right on time. I could tell she had some extreme case of OCD or an anxiety disorder by the way she fidgeted with the waiting chairs wanting them to be exactly spaced out, or when she would constantly check the clock and announce how many seconds he was either early or on time. He was unpredictable, and for women who had their day planned to the T she somehow always tried to plan for his unpredictable, coming a total of twenty minutes early just in case he decided to call her in five minutes early.

Outside of that office Dr.Kim drove her mad, but inside he always made sure the room was perfect. He would measure the distance of the coasters on the coffee table, straighten the cup of peppermints and color organize his pillows, it was to her comfort.

A session with Dr.Kim was more than talking, it was pure strategy and for that I questioned if he was insane.

Dr.Kim was heavily acclaimed, degrees, awards,best selling physiology books and praised Yelp reviews, the best in the state. Yet, I didn't understand what he was doing in our small town. Was he really needed in such a poster town, rooted in perfection? Then again it seemed like the perfect place to be, a town where everyone wanted to fix themselves before they were ruined, or people so scared to be ruined they needed a fix.

I should have asked him. Dr.Kim wasn't the type for questions, but I believed he knew the answer to everything.

     He had stuffed animals on the couch, that weren't there before dolls and lego toys scattered on the floor as if a child had an upcoming play date.

    "Barbies," I said, and it wasn't a question as I lifted the blonde doll up in my hand. Her long hair ran down her back and her petite frame wore a yellow dress those blue eyes piercing back at me.

         " I figured she's what girls your age are into." he replied.

   Dr.Kim was not a child therapist, which is no surprise due to his unorthodox methods, he lacked the nurturing spirit for children. I was his youngest client, and my sister made sure to emphasize how rare it was for him to even accept clients under 19, to help me further appreciate and take advantage of these sessions. I was seventeen, and I figured my childish antics of skipping sessions or falling asleep on the sofa couch during the sessions had finally caught up with me.

  He was treating me like a child to force maturity out of me.

    Mind Games Dr.Kim.

I didn't react to the obvious insult, nor let the physically conditions I was in create any discomfort. With a sigh I laid back onto the ploush softness of teddy bears, not caring which one I squished in the process. My once straight back was now slouched on the couch, the Barbie still in my hands, my finger tips played through it's hair.