Unchained

My name is Annabeth Killingsworth. I am 42 years old and I am the head psychiatrist here at the Williamsburg Institute. Lying on my desk is the case folder for my newest patient, 16 yr old Serena Cavanaugh. I sit down to look over the notes and an exasperated sigh escaped me. I know I should be used to reading these case files by now, but each new case brings with it more pain and sorrow. I can safely say that no amount of time will ever be enough to drown my inner pain. I know you are wondering why I am talking in circles, but I'm not. I have a secret so dark that if revealed could change my life forever. I am getting ahead of myself, first things first.
I walk into the observation room and set my notebook down on the cold, steel table. I take my place in front of the one-way mirror, which is all that separates myself from Serena. I observe her sitting in the corner hugging her knees to her chest, holding a ragged brown teddy bear. Her hair is a mess, and her clothes are disheveled. I see the remnants of her fallen tears. It is evident to me that she has been in that corner for quite awhile. Her bed has not been touched, and she appears lost in her thoughts. My first instinct is to run into the room, grab and hug her to me tightly. This deep longing is what separates me from the rest of the psychological community. This girl needs love, she needs to know that someone deeply cares for her. I observe Serena and feel her inner torment, she doesn't have to utter a word for me to understand. I observe her for a bit longer before I head back to my office to complete my notes.

I proceed to voice record my observation notes:

The date is January 30, 1991. It is 4:20 pm. Patient's name is Serena Cavanaugh, she is 16 years old.
According to her parents, Serena suffers from long-lasting periods of depression. She has moments of anger, happiness, and sadness, none of which last very long. She prefers solitude. Her parents express concern that Serena is cutting, they have seen evidence, they also feel that given the chance she might take her own life. As for my findings, she was unresponsive during questioning, showed no interest in any interaction.
End of notes.

I am panic-stricken. I cannot stop the tears welling up at the corners of my eyes. How can I keep doing this? How much longer can I keep pretending I am normal? What is normal anyway? So many questions, so few answers. My secret. Hmmm, I guess my secret is safe with you, after all, who are you going to tell? Only I and my psychiatrist Gayle know that I suffer from Bipolar Disorder. You might ask how a woman with BP chooses this profession? My answer is simple actually. I chose this profession because I have the ability to empathize with my patients. I can relate to their pain and agonizing thoughts. I can feel their pain as I listen to their stories of abuse and madness. Professionally, I know my job. Maintain distance, do not get emotionally attached, observe, report, diagnose, blah blah, blah. I cannot always do this. I understand the complexities of living with such a challenging illness. When they say time heals all wounds, I always ask how much time? After about an hour of deep thought, and too many tears, I snapped out of my trance, finished up my paperwork, and fell asleep on the couch in my office.

I fall asleep in a dream. I bolted up from the dream, my heart palpitating, and trying to catch my breath. I am dazed and confused, "What just happened?" A quick phone call to my psychiatrist was in order.

"Hello, Gayle" I stuttered.

"Annabeth, calm down, what's happening?" Gayle said with deep concern.

"It's happening all over again. It is a new patient of mine. We connected on a very deep level, and now I cannot break away. The pain in my heart is excruciating, I feel like I am suffocating. Gayle, please help me." I was sobbing uncontrollably.

"Annabeth, you must listen to me, slow deep breaths, in through your nose, and out through your mouth." again she said, "Annabeth, I want to hear you breathing."

"Okay Gayle, I am breathing. I'm sorry to call like this again." I mumbled, still trying to catch my breath.

"I am not worried about that, I am concerned about your current state Annabeth. We have discussed many times that you may have to retire from your position as a psychiatrist because the stress is too great for you to handle." obvious concern in her voice.
"Gayle, this is all I know. This would not hurt so bad if I didn't have skeletons in my own closet." gasping for air, "I thought I was past all of this. It was the dream, the dream I had of Serena."

"Annabeth, Is Serena your new patient?"

"Yes, she is only 16 years old, and her dream tells me that we are one in the same." I am still in tears.

"Tell me about Serena, Annabeth," Gayle asked adamantly.

"It all started when I fell asleep into a dream, actually a nightmare. I was floating over Serena. I saw her lying on her bed cuddling her teddy bear. I could clearly see her scars from her years of self-abuse. Splashes of red everywhere, pills, alcohol lying everywhere. I saw him, that evil man who didn't understand the word "NO". I could see into the depths of her soul. She wants to remain hidden away. Her inner demons come for her at night, they cloak themselves in billowing clouds. She was writhing in pain, they were suffocating her. I can see her trying to fight, she hasn't given up yet, but she is close. After much twisting and turning she just lies there listless, tears rolling down her cheeks. Emptiness remains. That's when I woke up, in sheer panic."

Gayle was silent for a moment then began,"Annabeth, we have been at this juncture before many times. I know you love your job, and that you truly are remarkable at helping your patients, but your mental health is at risk here. Your visible scars have healed, but your invisible ones, not so much." Gayle continued,"Do you not feel miserable pretending to keep your guard up, all the while crying yourself to sleep every night? I know you are searching for normalcy, but the truth is there is no normal. Normal is an over-rated word. What is normal for you, may not be normal for me. Do you understand?"

I took a moment to think about what Gayle was saying,"I really do understand Gayle, but how do I walk away now. Serena needs me?"

"Annabeth," Gayle sighed with a deep sadness," Serena, is not real in the sense you think she is," she replied sadly.

"Yes she is, I saw her in the observation room. I saw her teddy bear, saw her tears, I read her case file. What do you mean she isn't real?" I replied defensively.

Gayle looked for the safest way to approach this yet again. "Sweetheart you are not Annabeth Killingsworth. She is only one of your personalities. You are actually Serena Cavanaugh. You created Annabeth to help you get through your childhood. She sees your pain and has the desire to take it away from you."

I screamed "NOT TRUE!!!!! If I am Serena, prove it to me!"

Give me 20 minutes and I will come see you at the Institute. Twenty minutes later Gayle walked in the door. She immediately walked in and gave me a hug. It felt good to feel loving arms around me, I was such a mess right now.
"Gayle, come with me to the observation room, I will let you see Serena yourself." Gayle followed her out of the office and down the hallway. We entered the room, I walked over to the mirror and peered in, but there was no one there.

"WHAT????" I was stunned,"What is happening? Where is she?"

"Annabeth, relax. come back with me to your office, I have something important to show you." I followed her in a state of total confusion.
"Annabeth, come to the mirror." She asked with an urgency in her voice.

Annabeth slowly made her way to the mirror, she avoided looking in the mirror since her younger days because she was saddened by the reflection. Now, she had no choice. She gazed into the mirror and was terrified at what she saw. She is not a 42-year-old woman but a 16-year-old girl, with messy hair and wearing disheveled clothes. I am not Annabeth, I am Serena. I lifted my hands and in them my ragged brown teddy bear.