The Hard Work
It had been almost two months since she started this. Darcy had initially been terrified of what she was doing for herself. She had no idea if this life of hers was a mess or if it could be fixed or if she was going to be this way forever, but the woman she found was understanding and patient and disconnected from so much of Darcy’s own crap, that it became easy.
The scary part was that based on the first session, the psychiatrist, Dr. Rachel Scott, requested Darcy have two sessions a week. She managed to work that into her schedule, having a session on Monday and Thursday mornings. She came in right after she got off of work, still tired, usually, but alert enough to talk. Darcy had learned to function on less sleep than most, but even so, she had days that were worse than others.
They had discussed her symptoms of mental illness, many of them being not life-threatening problems, but more inconveniences and definitely causing emotional blocks between Darcy and those around her. She wasn’t stable when it came to her understanding of family, which Dr. Scott made perfectly clear that this was a major problem they’d have to overcome. Even more than that was her current situation, being that of high stress.
Darcy knew better than telling the obviously normal woman anything about the extra abilities of her own mind and Ford’s and well, most people around her most days. However, she was able to wrap up the issues into little variations, so even if the woman didn’t know that Ford had been an assassin before, he was still working a high stress and classified job for the government that Darcy couldn’t discuss. That seemed to work enough. Any talk about Francis, which did come up occasionally, was explained as being a friend in an accident which diminished his mental capacity.
Today, she arrived on time as usual, more relaxed than she had been in the sessions before, even if only by a small amount. She was dressed still in what she’d worked in, hair pulled back into a pony tail, make-up light.
“Good morning, Darcy,” the woman said, sitting in the leather chair. It was so stereotypical, the way the office was laid out. However, instead of some lounger, there was two identical leather chairs, both looking very much like they should be tucked away into some old rich man’s smoking room or mahogany library. However, this office was dusted with some bright and very girly odds and ends.
“Morning,” she replied, taking a seat and setting her purse down. Darcy crossed her legs, hands folded in her lap.
“Alright, shall we?” Dr. Scott asked, glancing down at her notes placed neatly in her lap, pen between her index and middle finger. “How have you been?”
“Well,” Darcy answered too quickly and the shrink gave her a moment to amend that response. “I’ve been less restless than usual. I a lot of times have to keep myself busy or my mind wanders and I immediately get panicky, but I’ve been able to just be lately. It’s been nice.”
“Has that been coming from anywhere in particular? Has life mellowed?” the woman scribbled something.
“No, life has felt about the same. Ford and I are still tip toeing around each other and work is still work, though admittedly that is the least stressful time of day. My sister is still declining, though I don’t particularly trust the staff. Not that they are doing a bad job, but I don’t think they understand her like I do and I don’t know if she’s declining or if she’s just... different.” Darcy was now looking down at her fingers in her lap.
“And is that a good or bad thing that she’s different?”
The questions were tedious. Darcy hated this part of it. “I don’t know. If she’s worse, it’s just more of the bad. If she’s different, it’s something changed that I have to deal with. So either way, there’s a stress to it.”
“Have you gone to see her?”
“No.”
Scribbles on the paper. “Why?”
“I don’t like being there. I don’t like not being able to do anything about it.”
“Lack of control over the situation?” Another quick scribble on the paper.
Darcy scoffed a little and nodded. Looking up at her, she gave a weak smile. They both already knew that this was the case.
“And what about control in your home life? How have you been dealing with it?” Dr. Scott was very thorough. Even considering she saw her twice a weak.
“Struggling to remain focussed on myself, I think. I mean, like I said, I haven’t been panicky, but I still worry about Ford and Francis and what life will be like and how quickly everything can change. I still have those fears, but I’m trying to remember...” she trailed off.
The woman smiled softly, resting her hand on the notes, “You can’t help anyone unless you yourself is helped,” she began, “you have done a lot better on your ticks since I first saw you and I’m hoping that the medication to help with that hasn’t been overwhelming.”
Darcy shook her head. No, the medication had been good, just enough to keep her calmer than usual and her rituals had been less demanding, lately.
“So, as we’ve discussed, you have to get you better before you can deal with anyone else, but that doesn’t mean you should keep them out of the loop-”
“I’m not telling him,” Darcy cut her off.
“Why?”
“Because he’s not the easiest person to talk to about this kind of thing and I’m... worried about his reaction,” she admitted. That was the first time she’d said that out loud.
“What do you think his reaction will be?” And again with the pen.
“I don’t know... maybe he’ll think it’s stupid or he’ll think that it isn’t helping. I’m worried that...” she has to pause. What’s the best way to say this? “He’s only known me as the frustrating, discouraged, OCD version of me. He’s never known a side of me without any of that and if I change and I start to become better, but different, he might not love that part of me anymore.”
“Don’t you think he’d want you happy?”
Darcy stared at her a moment. He was a selfish man, but Darcy didn’t believe that he’d prefer her miserable just because he liked her that way. It wasn’t like he was happy now, either. “Yes.”
“Then you need to tell him. Darcy, even if the new version of you, the better version of you, isn’t what he fell in love with, if he loves you like you think. he’d rather you be happy. And you should realize that if you are happier and he isn’t in love with that, he wasn’t ever in love with you,” Dr. Scott set her pen down and took a deep breath.
Darcy nodded, glancing down to her lap. That was precisely what she was afraid. She’d be so different that she’d have to start all over and everything that brought her here would be gone.
“I want you to bring him in for a session.”
“What?!” Darcy’s eyes widened, looking up at her. “No... no, that’s not a good idea.”
“And why not? He knows all the things about you that you don’t like and the things that you may not even see. He could have some interesting insight,” she smiled and Darcy felt a little nauseous at the idea.
“He’s not a nice man,” she blurted.
“I don’t believe you a moment. I’ve heard the way you talk about him. He may not be an easy man, but he’s not mean and he’s not horrible. You forget that I’ve met all kinds. He can’t be that bad,” she seemed thoroughly amused by all this.
“I...”
“Bring him in... at least tell him about this. Ask. All I want is you to ask if he will. If he won’t, he won’t and we’ll deal with that,” she said, still smiling.
Darcy was staring at her. The woman’s short cropped, blonde hair, streaked with grey that was unsuccessfully covered by the dye. She was a cute woman, who looked much nicer than she could be. She’d been downright harsh with Darcy before. It was the only thing that worked at first.
“Talk to him, Darcy. You can’t get better if you don’t do the hard work.”
Darcy groaned rather childishly and tapped her finger on her thigh three times. Well, maybe not all her ticks were gone.