Isabel was as lost in her depression as an Australian shepherd dog would be without a herd of sheep. It can be a thing of beauty to watch the dog gracefully circling a confused herd. Speeding up, slowing down, sidestepping and charging forward—the dog’s every movement is intense. Lying deep at the instinct’s center is the simple, involuntary need to please.
“Isabel, you seem a bit subdued today,” her therapist remarks. “Is there any particular reason for that?”
Just tell me what you want from me. Tell me who to be and I’ll be it.
Daily meetings with her therapist, her psycho-pharmacologist, the nurse on the unit and then group therapy with Larry…Isabel is sick of it. It’s draining to appear to absorb all the good intentions of the mental health care professionals surrounding her. Outnumbering her.
It’s brainwashing when you think about it: people telling you you’re a valuable person, you shouldn’t think of dying as an option, you’re worth more than that…It’s like they hope that by osmosis you’ll feel better about yourself. You’ll be infused with the intense desire to live.
Why isn’t it working?
“She had it all…a successful career as a television reporter for a major news network, a marriage and a good circle of friends…find out what went wrong…Sunday at eight only on Lifetime, Television for Women.”
“Isabel, I think we need to revisit the medication issue,” Dr. Seidler is saying. “Have you given any thought to what we discussed earlier? You seemed pretty upset. I’ve tried to talk about ECT with you every day this week and each time you shut down. Isabel?”
Isabel stares at the Native American weaving hanging above the doctor’s desk. She hears every word as if she is underwater.
“I want you to know that I feel our options are becoming limited. With electroshock therapy we would take very few risks and see the most benefits. What do you think?”
Sometimes, if you stare at something long enough you can almost hypnotize yourself. Kind of like sleeping with your eyes open.
“Isabel? Are you okay? Isabel?”
The vibrant colors in the wool decoration blur together.
“Isabel? Do you understand that as your doctor I can act in your best interests if I believe your personal safety is in jeopardy? In other words, I don’t necessarily need your approval to move forward, and I am starting to feel like that is an option I may actively explore….”
She sure uses the word option a lot. How many times has that been? Two? No, three. Maybe it’s two.
“Can you hear me, Isabel?”
That voice is so grating.
“Isabel?”