Age 29, single, office administrator
The slump of her shoulders and sullen eyes screamed depression.
“Jess, do you want to come on back?” Louis asked as he stood at his office door entrance, displaying calm reassurance. Jess got up and crossed the floor. She entered the office and settled in the chair across from his desk. Setting her purse on the floor, Jess dropped her hands into her lap with a sigh. Her eyes met him with uncertainty as she waited for him to begin.
“How are you doing today?” Louis asked.
“Physically, I’m okay—I guess.” She forced a smile to appear as though she were okay.
“Why do I hear a but?”
“I feel down.”
“Define down.”
“There’s nothing there—just this heavy sadness weighing me down. I feel like I’m dragging myself through life. Everything seems so empty, so meaningless. I want to enjoy my life, but I can’t.”
“How long have you been feeling this way?”
“For a while now.”
“How are you doing at work?”
“It’s just a lot of stuff I’m not up to dealing with. My supervisor always finds fault with everything I do. My co-workers can’t agree on anything. Between the gossip and the distrust, it’s so toxic. I’m starting to fall behind on my work. Clients call all the time. They’re always complaining about something. It’s so hard to get up in the morning. There’s just nothing to look forward to. Not to mention the stuff I do at home—the laundry, the dishes, cleaning the bathroom—it’s all routine. It never ends.” She sighed deeply. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“I don’t mean to complain.”
“You’re doing fine, Jess. Keep going.”
“I don’t feel fine. I’m hurting. And I don’t know what to do about it. The sadness is unbearable; it doesn’t let up. And the guilt—it’s always there. It’s like I can make the most trivial mistake, and I berate myself for it. I don’t know why I do it. It’s not like I want to. I want to be happy, but I can’t. I’m starting to think this is just how I’m supposed to be. I don’t know.”
“Let’s go back.”
“To what?” she asked.
“You say you’ve been feeling this way for a while now. Is there anything that has happened that may have triggered these feelings?”
“It’s just a buildup of things not going right. It’s not one thing in particular. It’s a cluster of a lot of bad things that makes me feel like things are just hopeless. I can’t explain it.”
“I think you’ve given me a pretty descriptive picture. How is your relationship with your family?”
“It’s good. I guess. I really don’t have the time to see them as much as I probably should.”
“Are you okay with that? Or is that something you’d like to change?”
“If I’m being honest, I really don’t care to be around anybody right now.”
“May I ask why?”
“I love my family. But we can all be pretty critical of each other. That’s just how we are.”
“You included?”
“I don’t try to be. It’s just we’re so comfortable with each other. A lot of times, we say things right off the cuff. We don’t mean to hurt each other. But we do. That’s how it is. I’m just not up for being around that right now.”
“That’s understandable. But let me ask you, if you could change it, would you?”
“I’m not sure how I could change it. But yeah—I wish things were different. Like I said. I love my family. But I don’t feel like they get me. Like they know who I am. Or how I feel. Sometimes I wonder if we weren’t related, would they even like me as a person.”
“Do you like them—as people, I mean?”
“Yeah.” She chuckled. “Of course.”
“But you feel like it’s not reciprocated?”
“It’s complicated. I do try to be nice, but I feel like a lot of times, I’m constantly having to explain myself. Or better yet, defend myself.”
“In what regard?”
“I don’t always feel like they support me.”
“Can you give me an example?”
“If I’m having a bad day at work, I try to tell them how I feel, and they usually say that it’s something I’m doing wrong. I try dating, but I don’t seem to be what guys are looking for. Again, my family will say it’s me. It’s like, no matter how hard I try, nothing I do is ever good enough. It makes me feel bad about myself. Which is why I prefer being alone,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“I hear what you’re saying. But usually, when people say they prefer being alone, it tends to be more of a defensive tactic than something they actually want. Could that be true for you?”
“It’s just better for me that way.” Her voice faded. “The truth is, I don’t feel comfortable being around other people, let alone being in a relationship. I’m just not in a good place.”
“You seem to experience substantial emotional stress throughout your day. Not to mention the work you’ve expressed, having to do at home. That’s a lot of negativity to deal with. I wonder what would happen if you could separate your home, work, and social environment.”
“What would be the point? Everything seems so negative. There’s nothing to look forward to. I just want to crawl into bed and stay there. That way, I wouldn’t have to be around anyone. I could just—be left alone.”
“I get that. Taking some personal time to regroup can serve a purpose. But when that purpose has been fulfilled, it’s time to gather yourself and get back out there. The question is, is that something you could see yourself doing—eventually?”
“I honestly don’t have what it takes to keep putting myself out there.” She dropped her stare down to her hands resting in her lap.
“I believe you do.”
“How can you be so sure of that?” She glanced up at him.
“You’re here.”
“Yeah. Barely.”
“That’s a good place to start.”