The Psychiatrist

PC had her office on the main walking street by Kongens Nytorv. I was very nervous while I was waiting. I didn’t know what to expect, but I knew I had to be honest. Completely honest. Even though SK had made me scared of medicine, I knew I needed something stronger than the antidepressants I was already taking. I had realised I was more ill than I thought at first. The door opened, there she was, PC. She looked friendly. As we entered the office I saw the ceiling. Oh no! It was the kind of ceiling with several squares, each square had a lot of holes. I started counting. If I counted the holes in one square and then multiplied the number of squares… What are you doing, PC asked. I’m counting the holes, I answered. I had promised myself to be completely honest. Okay, is there a reason for that, she asked. It gives me a sense of peace. Are there other things you HAVE to do, she asked. I don’t know if I have to, but I can’t leave the house without taking the keys out of my purse 5 times, but that’s just common sense. I also told her about the snails. I left there with a prescription for Seroquel and a new diagnosis in addition to anxiety, OCD. But more importantly, I left there with hope. SHE could help me. I could feel it.
Things were good at the company. Besides S, we had also gotten an investor. Hallelujah. Suddenly we could breathe a little easier and laugh a little more. There too, we had renewed hope. Fashion week was approaching again, but this time C wasn’t gonna sew the collection herself as usual. It was to be produced in China. Happy days. We didn’t have to work as hard before a fashion fair, as we usually did. Problems occurred at the factory and a week before the fair, it was clear. The collection wasn’t gonna make it home in time. If it had ever been made was questionable. S, who was the sales rep, felt the pressure. C and I had to make the entire collection in a week, but it wasn’t possible. We couldn’t cope. So there we were, at fashion week with very little clothes to show. The investor wasn’t impressed, but it wasn’t our fault, and we all still really believed in the project.
I saw PC regularly. She was concerned about my weight. Since the discharge and the Zyprexa I had lost all the weight I had gained and then some. The situation with the snails was very bad. She helped me get protein shakes from the pharmacy. Two of them a day, and everything was good. In my younger days, I had had an eating disorder, but this felt differently. I wanted to eat, but I was too anxious. My stomach felt like in a knot and my body was in so much distress, that I had to throw up. My dosage of Seroquel was increased and the food issues started getting better. I tolerated Seroquel a lot better than Zyprexa, why didn’t I get healthy? We had moved our workshop out to the investor in Soeborg, outside of Copenhagen. I had gotten my entire apartment back. The apartment I shared with M. The place where all the ugliness happened. Where I broke. C and S convinced me it was time to move. I got a big apartment in Vestebro and I was gonna move there with my best friend, A and her wonderful boyfriend, B on January first 2008. I was looking forward to it. I knew it would be great, because we had all lived together before in Oernevej. Didn’t things start to look up a bit?