I sat down and tried to explain exactly how I was feeling to the therapist but I didn’t have the right words, I let my tears speak for me. “Why are you crying” he asked without any emotion. I guessed he had seen too many depressed women to allow himself to be human. Besides, on a closer observation, I thought he looked as depressed as I was. His clinic was littered with dusty books. The curtains had seen better days and that ceiling fan couldn’t blow a tissue paper. And on this day, there was no electricity and the air was still. There was enough to depress me more than I already felt.

He paused, then asked curiously, “Are you that publisher woman?”

I nodded as the tears flowed, “ I don’t understand how I am feeling”.

“What if you start by telling me why you are crying”, he asked with a dead pan expression.

Again, I muttered, “ I don’t know”. Then I added sarcastically, “If I knew why I was so sad, moody and suicidal would I be here?”

“Are you in an abusive marriage?”, He asked

“No”, I said as i shook my head

“Are your children school drop out?”, he asked and I shook my head again

“Are you in debt or do you have financial issues”, he asked again

“Who doesn’t have financial issues?” I responded, then shook my head

“Then why are you depressed?”, He asked.

“The truth is madam, he blurted, whatever you are feeling, you have to try and SNAP out of it, JUST SNAP OUT OF IT and POWER Up!”

At that stage, I snapped and shouted,

“DON’T TELL ME TO SNAP OUT OF IT. If it were that simple, would I be here, you think I want to be here? Don’t tell me to power up…”

I got up and headed towards the door…

Then he reached out to me and gently whispered, “I AM SORRY, I AM SORRY.. CAN WE START ALL OVER AGAIN”

And For the first time, he smiled

I smiled too……

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