She eased her car into the parking spot. If only life were that easy – just point and glide where you want to go. Unfortunately, that was not the case for her. Other people had it easy. It was never simple for her. She got out of her car and headed towards the building. It was quite unassuming – old white brick and heavy glass doors. Just like every other building in the cul de sac. It looked like it had been built in the 60s. You’d never know that it was owned by a bunch of shrinks who picked at people’s brains for a living. The only thing modern about the building was the security pinpad to the left of the door. She glanced up and noticed a few security cameras. I guess you can never be too careful nowadays. She checked her phone for the access code and entered it into the pinpad. The red light changed to green and she heard a soft click. She pulled the door open and stepped inside. She stopped as the door wooshed closed behind her. She stood in a small, tastefully furnished lobby. Paintings hung from the walls. She wondered if they were reproductions or originals – probably originals.
She bit her lower lip and stared down at the car keys in her hand. Every nerve in her body was telling her to run back out to the car while she still could. She took deep breaths; hoping it would bring calm. Here she was, again, reaching out for help. She had started this journey so many times before and failed. She closed here eyes and hoped to find the strength to go through this one last time. She wanted to believe that this time would be different. She wanted to believe that she would finally find peace. She wanted to believe that she would find the life she wanted to live. She wanted to believe. But would that be enough? She shook her head – hoping to send the negative thoughts flying from her consciousness.
She took a deep breath, opened her eyes and turned towards the elevator. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a neatly dressed man standing behind a counter. Concierge service on a Saturday. She nodded and smiled. She quickly walked across the marble tiled floor towards the open elevator all the while feeling his gaze upon her. She entered, pressed the button for the 3rd floor and then pressed the DOOR CLOSE button. The elevator door rattled closed. She leaned against one wall as the elevator jerked upwards towards the top floor. She noticed the camera, red light blinking, in the corner of the elevator. More state-of-the art security.
The elevator door opened, revealing floor to ceiling windows. She stepped out and was drawn towards the windows, curious as to what kind of a view you’d get in this neighbourhood. She stared down at an empty courtyard with colourful Muskoka chairs interspersed along a stone walkway. The walkway disappeared behind some century maple trees. She stood on tiptoe to see what lay beyond the trees. She couldn’t see anything.
“It’s a ravine.”
Startled, she turned towards the direction of the voice. Standing off to the side was a man, in his 40s. He was dressed in a pale blue dress shirt and pair of jeans. His salt and pepper hair was a little tousled. The look was meant to appear casual but something about the crispness of the shirt and the way his hair was styled made her think it was all carefully planned.
“Oh. Sorry. I…..” she stammered.
“No worries. It’s normal curiosity to want to know what lays beyond them.” the man paused. “I’m Dr. Bancroft. So nice to meet you Sarah.” Sarah shook his extended hand.
He gestured to a chair “Have a seat.”
She looked at him, puzzled. “We’re going to do this in the hallway?”
“This whole floor is my office. I thought we could sit out here instead of sitting in one of my consultation rooms. They’re all nice but none match this view; especially in the fall when the leaves are changing. Besides, it’s Saturday. Nobody will interrupt.”
He didn’t wait for her to respond and walked towards one of the two worn, brown leather reading chairs and sat down.
She sat down across from him.
“Would you like some water?”
“No thanks. I’m good.”
“Okay. So let’s begin.”
He picked up his phone and asked if she minded if he recorded the session. He said it was for his files and nobody would listen to the recordings. She nodded in agreement.
He waved the phone back and forth a few times. “I need you to verbally acknowledge you’re okay with recording this session. My phone doesn’t record head nods.”
She chuckled and then said “Yes, I agree to being recorded.”
“Good. Thank you.”
He put the phone down onto the table beside his chair and picked up a pad and pen.
“Isn’t that overkill? A pen, a pad and a recording?”
He explained how he worked. He recorded the session so he could go back and make formal notes for his files. The notepad was for jotting down some immediate thought or idea. He sometimes would draw a picture for a client. Sometimes a picture made more sense when he was explaining a concept to them.
“So you’re not making your grocery list or doodling?”
“No.”
Sarah rolled her eyes.
“That was meant to be a joke.” She wondered if he had a sense of humour at all.
Dr. Bancroft raised one eyebrow and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly.
“Okay. Let’s begin.”
The next 45 minutes were spent answering a series of questions. They seemed random to her. A couple of times she’d answer, “I have no idea.” One time she asked what a certain question had to do with why she was here. He tilted his head to one side and then asked another question. It seemed to go on forever.
“Well that was most helpful.”
“Really? How?”
“Well. I won’t get into that right now. But I will say that I’m really glad that you fulfilled your commitment to see me. It takes courage.”
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat when he said that. She did not see herself as courageous. In fact, she saw herself as anything but that. Who thinks that letting their life get out of control is courageous? She began to doubt if Dr. Bancroft knew what he was doing.
“Oh. Don’t get me wrong. We have a lot of work to do. I can tell by the look on your face and the answers to my questions that you don’t see how far you’ve come on your own. I know you don’t think of any of that as an achievement or courageous. But it is.”
She shrugged her shoulders as if to say “Whatever.”
“These are the next steps. I am going to take all of this away. I have a good idea of what I’d like to work on first. But I’d also like you to think about that over the next week. I don’t want you to spend all of your time thinking about it. But I…..”
“Well how much time?”
“I was getting to that. I’d like you to spend maybe a half hour a day thinking about what you would like to work on.”
“Okay. I’m supposed to think about it but not think about it too much. By not thinking about it too much I’m supposed to be able to decide on one thing that I want to work on?”
“Yes.”
“But there is so much!”
“Yes. I know that. But it can be overwhelming. You get scattered and distracted. You end up not fixing anything. You get depressed. That creates the downward spiral. That’s what landed you here, today.”
The look on her face said, “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“There aren’t any quick fixes. There is no magic pill you can take to make your life be the way you want it to be. You are not broken and beyond repair. There will be a lot of work. But you will be happy as you put in the work and you will be happy with the results.”
He nodded his head towards the table beside her. She turned and saw a green leather-bound journal. It was embossed with leaves.
“That is for you.”
“Oh gee. I didn’t get you anything.”
Again, the only acknowledgement of her attempt at humour were the corners of his mouth turning a tiny bit upward.
“You are to take that journal and I want you to start writing. Sometimes I will give you topics. Regardless, I’d like you to write about your day, your thoughts, what’s going on in your head.”
“You don’t want to read that.”
“No I don’t. It’s for you and you alone. I’m not giving you homework that I will read and grade. You need to get things out and, from what I understand from your former therapist……..”
She started to say something in protest but he held up his hand.
“Yes, I consulted her. I wanted to know what you had worked on and if it had been successful. That’s all. We are starting with a clean slate. I have no preconceived notions about you. I enter into this arrangement with an open mind and the intent to help you become the you that you want to become. Does that make sense?”
She nodded. He gestured towards the phone.
“Ah….Yes.”
“So. The journal. This week there is homework. In addition to writing daily. I’d like you to write down what you would change if you had a magic wand. You can’t just write the word “everything” and then leave it at that. I want substance. I want you to give it some real thought. We’ll look at it at our next session. Same time next week?”
He didn’t wait for a response as he stood up and extended his hand to her. He nodded as she shook it.
“I look forward to working with you, Sarah.” He released her hand and, with those words, he turned and walked down the hall.
She sat there for a moment, staring as he walked away and watched him disappear around a corner. She stood up and walked towards the elevator.
“Sarah!”
She turned, startled at somebody calling out her name. It was Dr. Bancroft.
“Your journal!”
She walked back and grabbed the journal off of the table. She waved it at him as she pressed the elevator call button with her other hand. He disappeared around the corner again. She stuffed the journal into her bag.
She stepped in to the elevator and sagged against the wall. The red flashing light of the security camera counted off the seconds until she arrived at the first floor. She exited the elevator and nodded to the Concierge as she crossed the lobby. She walked out the front door. The crisp fall air filled her nostrils. The wind had picked up while she was inside. It pulled at the strands that had come loose from her ponytail and blew them across her face. She brushed them aside as she walked towards her car. She unlocked the door and paused as she reached for the handle. She looked at the building and her gaze turned upwards to the 3rd floor. The tinted windows revealed nothing of what was going on inside that building.
Diary of a DOW 