Young Writers Society

Maria drove her girls to their school on the way to her appointment with her new psychologist Graham Haynes. Apparently an esteemed Christian psychologist, who is a common church-goer and a regular donator to Caritas.

Maria decided to switch on the highly upbeat Christian tune “Bail up the Converts” on the CD player, she sang along to it merrily to keep her mind off the fact that her entire family believed she was crazy. And perhaps she was, but it still didn’t convince her that maybe something wasn’t right in her Christian lifestyle at the moment.

The tune caused Maria to bounce up and down enthusiastically in the car, hollering the chorus passionately “Praise Lord Jesus” she beamed in the rear view mirror, encouraging her daughters to join in. Instead Veronica moaned with hurtful disinterest, and turned to face the window. “Seriously Mum, this isn’t the Brady Bunch.” Maria flinched in annoyance, “ Don’t speak of that sinful materialist crock of Satan Veronica.” The mood was immediately destroyed by Veronica’s retort, so Maria switched off the tape. She pulled up the car outside the Christian college. There were no goodbyes, as the girls practically escaped out of the car, in a hurry to see their friends. Maria merely watched out the window grimly, as her daughters chirped like hummingbirds up the stairs to their class. Ignorant to the tragedy of their Mother’s mental state. I’ve failed them.

Doctor Haynes’ office was of a pale cream colour, with a large fountain shaped window overlooking the multi-coloured garden outside, flourishing with wild acacias and pink roses. In the centre of the wall above his chair, was a wooden crucifix pinned to the wall. It relaxed Maria dearly. Doctor Haynes began flicking through what appeared to be letters and documents in his seat, tlting his head slightly to see clearly through his glasses. It was a few more moments before he proceeded to interview her with personal questions. Maria remained stiff and stern with pride, she was afraid to reveal her pitiable weakness to a stranger.

“ So Maria, I’m Doctor Haynes, as you know. It’s lovely to finally meet you.” He smiled warmly and held out his hand.

Maria grasped it lightly, but retreated in the blink of an eye. He wasn’t offended.

“So Maria, your husband tells me you are suffering some terrible nightmares. Now, is that right? Because I wanna hear it from you before we go further. You are my client now after all, and I only want to do what is best for you.” He smiled the same friendly smile again, and waited patiently for a response.

Maria sat still momentarily in awe of his forwardness. She had aimed to keep her fears inside her for as long as possible, she had wanted to avoid spilling her worries out to burden people. She didn’t like to be perceived as weak. She stared out the window again at the flowers, and watched them brush swiftly against the wind, swaying rhythmically with the slight breeze. This calmed her.

“Maria?” the doctor questioned without too much push.

“ Yes. I dream of terrible things.”

She was quick to shed at least a general explanation. That couldn’t hurt.”

“Are you prepared to tell me what those dreams are about?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Right.”

He placed his palms gently against his knees and sighed with concern.

"Maria, I think that medication might be a good option for you-"

Mari jumped defensively and pointed her finger at the Doctor "No Doctor Haynes. I don't believe in it. I don't trust it." The Doctor observed Maria in awe filled silence.

“Well Maria, that’s ok, because we can still go through some cognitive strategies to help you out. Once step at a time.” He beamed again, urging a response. A soothing aroma coloured the room with delight. Maria managed a slight stretch of the mouth to even out her lips from the previous droop of dread, even lowering her tense entrenched shoulders a little. This was the first time in months she had felt liberated from pain.

Three months flew by, and Maria was seeing Doctor Haynes once a week. Things were looking up for the family it seemed. The usual daily routine swiftly fell back into place, as Maria gathered her perturbed thoughts back together again. She had even started a sleep diary that recorded what she dreamed about, and how many days had flown by since she’d suffered a painstaking nightmare. It had so far been three weeks, and she was pleased.

As they prayed each meal, she would bask in the serenity of her collected cognition and think pleasingly the Lord does work mysteriously, and he is here. Maria had done something good, and her kids were growing more comfortable with confiding in her again. Daniel had expressed concern about balancing his studies with football, and she had dealt with it, Luke had asked her for advice on girls, and she had given it-though hesitantly, as she didn’t want to encourage sexual activity- and the girls had happily taken on her opinion about dresses for the school prom.

Even Paul was coming out of his shell, grinning profusely each day after school as if he’d received a Nobel Prize for literature, which would please him. Maria was baking a cheesecake one afternoon when Paul arrived home from school-smiling again. “You’ve been upbeat lately” commented Maria, but lovingly. Paul halted like a lieutenant as if he’d received commands from the General. Mouth open, he tried to be voice his response. “Sweetheart, I was just making an observation.” Assured Maria. He twitched at the feet and exercised his mouth anxiously, looking down at the floor. “I’m going to do my homework.” Paul tripped up the stairs in escape from the tension. Maria didn’t know how to react. She only wondered, pale-faced and stunned with curiosity. What have I done, why is he so distressed around me? I have done something wrong. I must have. What have I done? What is it that I’ve done?