“Your problem is not my problem.” This is what I heard come out of my therapist’s mouth as I stared at her in shock. What did I say wrong, I thought. I know the story I had just told her might be a little much to process, but I didn’t know it would be enough to make my own therapist storm out of her office with her patient still sitting in it. About an hour before this happened, I was first walking into her office for the 10AM meeting I had scheduled. I’ve met with her multiple times before. In fact, we’ve become quite close by complaining about each other’s lives and gossiping about people we don’t like. We were like counselors to each other, that is, until that day.
Everything seemed fine when I walked into the office; her brown eyes and her big smile were lit up like usual, urging me to come in and sit down on the comfy couch, filled with pillows and blankets, in the front of her room. “I’m so glad you’re here today, McKenzie,” she said to me. “How are you doing?” I looked at her with a smile and said, “Oh do I have a story to tell you. You know I’ve been waiting for our weekly gossip session all day.” She smiled an even bigger smile, and I could tell she was eager to know what had been happening. “Well let’s not gossip about other people, now. I’d like to hear only about you.” She told me this with that same warm look, but her words filled me with confusion. I had been sure it was a misunderstanding on my part, so I decided to ignore it and go on. When I sat down on the couch to face her, I prepared myself to tell a story that, in my opinion, is just a little shocking, but I figured she would listen to anything I told her, considering she’s my therapist and possibly my best friend; maybe even my only friend now.
“Okay, so,” I started with. “Last Friday, I got a call from my friend, Mia, who applied to Boston College with me. We had a plan: both apply to Boston College senior year of high school, both get in, dorm together, and spend every day of our college lives together. She always told me it seemed a little ‘much’ and that we can’t spend every single day together, but I thought it sounded perfectly ok, and I told her she’d regret it if she said no. Anyways, she called me a couple days ago to tell me something unacceptable: at the last minute, she decided to commit to another college she had applied to.” At this point in my story, she had a slight look of concern on her face, with maybe a hint of what seemed like fear. I ignored it; there was no reason for her to be scared. “When I got this call, I was absolutely furious. There was no way she could do this to me. I tried to talk her out of it the best I could, but she didn’t listen to me. I begged and begged, hoping her plan to attend a college on the opposite side of the country could be dropped, but she refused everything I offered. Finally, after all the frustration and anger had fully swarmed me, I ended the call and immediately initiated a plan I didn’t even have to think twice about.
Keeping in mind the promise we made to each other in elementary school, I hiked all the way to her house, so determined that I didn’t care about the twenty miles I had to go; I didn’t have a car or anyone to drive me, and I couldn’t feel any emotion.” At this point, her eyes were wide open with pure concern. “I arrived at her house hours later. She asked me what I was doing there and how I got there, but I ignored it. I said to her, ‘We made a promise, remember? So I say, if we can’t be together in this life, then we can continue our lives in separate ones.’ After that I stabbed her once or twice. Maybe even like five times. Can’t remember too well, but wasn’t that so rude of her? I think I did the right thing in that situation, don’t you?” My therapist stood up from her chair, shaking hands, and backing away slowly. “McKenzie,” she said in a shaky voice. “Your problem is not my problem anymore.” She was out the door in less than a second. After the door slammed shut, I could hear the beep…beep…beep… coming from her phone, followed by a ring. 911 what’s your emergency?