2. Hanna
HANNA
“Yeah, I’m heading into the office now.”
My sneakers pound against the pavement as I move with intention, even more so than usual since the sky looks like it’s about to open up on me at any second. Pulling my raincoat tighter around my chest, I adjust my Airpod in my ear with my free hand.
“And what flavor of messed up and misery are you dealing in this week, honey bee?”
I roll my eyes and sigh. “I wish you wouldn’t talk about them like that, Mother. These are real people dealing with real problems. They aren’t messed up and miserable.”
Well, not all of them.
While I wouldn’t consider any of my clients ‘messed up,’ a few of them sometimes come in feeling pretty miserable.
But I’m always proud when they show up anyway to do the work they need to feel a little lighter.
Life is hard and in my years of being a psychiatrist, I’ve seen some of the darkness life can trap people in.
They’re simply lost and need a little guidance back to themselves.
That’s how I see myself, not as a doctor or a prescriber, but as a guide.
A friend. A safe space to land for people who feel like they don’t already have that.
And I take that role very seriously. Not all psychiatrists see patients for therapy, but it’s my favorite part of the job.
“Oh, I’m just teasing you, honey bee. You know that,” my mother replies and I can hear the smile in her voice.
I like to joke with my friends that they never have to worry about me because on any given day, my parents know where I am or what I’m doing.
I don’t care what people say, it’s perfectly healthy for a thirty-two year old woman to call her parents almost daily.
I smile at the pavement, rounding the corner and heading down Church Street. “I know you are, but all the same. I’ve asked you before to not call my patients ‘messed up.’ I’d appreciate it if you respected that.”
“There she goes again, reinforcing her boundaries. Proud of you sweetie.” This time it’s the booming voice of my dad that comes over the line.
As a psychiatrist himself, he knows a thing or two about setting boundaries and getting others to respect them.
While my parents are divorced, they still spend most of their time together.
Lifelong friends and partners, my father’s realization that he’s more attracted to men than women didn’t alter their relationship one bit.
Other than the fact that they’re no longer husband and wife and he now has a boyfriend.
“Are you all having Monday breakfast?” I ask, ducking into the building my practice lives in as small raindrops begin to fall from the sky.
“Yep, George is cooking up the bacon now and your father just got back with coffee for everyone,” my mom explains.
I can picture the three of them now, moving around the kitchen in perfect synchrony.
I’ve met them plenty of times for their weekly ritual when I didn’t have morning clients.
Getting to watch them all interact always fascinates me.
Most people would think having your husband ask for a divorce after twenty-five years and then begin dating men would make you hate him.
But not my mom. She handled it in stride and continues to support him no matter who he’s with.
It’s one of the many reasons I admire her so much.
“Hi, Hanna,” I hear George call out. They must have me on speakerphone like they always do.
“Good morning, George. I hope my parents aren’t giving you too much trouble today,” I reply.
“These two? When are they not giving me trouble?” he jokes and I can hear my parents laugh in unison.
My key turns the lock to my office and I step inside, ready to get organized and take on the day. I have a full schedule of clients to see, several of them being new which means more paperwork than normal.
“Alright, family, I’m at work and need to get myself ready before my first client comes in. I love you all.”
“We love you, honey bee,” I hear mom say from further away. “Talk to you later.”
Dad and George speak at the same time, their words muddling together over the line.
“Bye, bye, love you, too, bye,” I hurry before hanging up the phone.
Tucking my phone into my pocket, I look around my office and smile softly to myself.
A new day.
A new week.
A fresh opportunity to make someone’s life a little lighter.
Let’s do this.