Hope—Maybe

Lately I’ve been sitting in cubicle land, quite miserable at my existence. This is baby season — people are bringing in their new babies to show off, and I haven’t even a boyfriend to show for. It’s discouraging, because never before have I thought babies were that cute. Now I think they are adorable, and I’m wondering if I’ll ever be lucky enough to date someone for more than two months and walk down an aisle (beside the supermarket aisle).

The only positive light in what has been a dark two weeks is the new shrink. I’ve basically given the Buddha man the boot, and will designate him as the meds man. The new shrink is a tall, lithe Spanish-looking woman who I will call Dr. Ruth.

Once again my ADD self didn’t remember what floor her office was on, and I was a good 10 minutes late. The office was sparse, with a grand, beautiful view of the city on what has proven a freakishly hot day. She sat there, stared at me and asked me why I was there. It turns out that Dr. Ruth doesn’t see other patients with attention deficit disorder, but she sees plenty of women with self-esteem complexes. I told her about the commitment-phobic mystery man, about all of these problems I had in my life. I said after a year and a half of being diagnosed with ADD, I was still spinning wheels, searching for the right meds and struggling every day with this thing called organization.

She asked me when I was happiest. Swimming, I said. I am happiest when I swim alone, when I feel and see the bubbles. Something magical happens after numerous laps, I feel powerful like no one can touch me. I laughed a bit like a madwoman and told her I am also happiest when I can fully be myself, spit out the clever ideas, shop, sun myself on the beach, day-dream. I love it when I can be the free spirit that I am.

She smiled and said that I shouldn’t discount all of the wonderful things about myself too, and that I should stop blaming myself. She also said that life is too short: Focus on those who love you, focus on the here and now.

The session felt like a Hallmark commercial, but I left feeling like there was hope. It felt perfect and similar to the warm air in what should have been a frigid January.