Do you still see a psychiatrist?

Monday is one of my unofficial “day’s off”, when I give myself permission to sleep a little later and make the focus of the day more me that Miss Cathy. I try not to schedule doctor’s appointments or specific errands for her so that I might be free to roam around, read a book or heaven forbid go to the gym-the most active thing I do these days is jump to conclusions.

Anyway, I’m up late making coffee and I hear Miss Cathy coming around the corner, “Morning! How did you sleep?” “Fine”, I said but of course she didn’t hear me because she wasn’t in the room yet. She asked again and I responded again, this time much lackluster than the first.

“Do you still see a psychiatrist?” she asked. “Uh, no,” I said, wondering where that non-sequester came from, “ I had a “tune-up” in June when I was in KC packing up to come back here but other than that no.”

“Oh”, She said, “I was just wondering because you don’t seem as happy as you used to when you’d come to visit.”

Okay……what am I suppose to do with that? She didn’t elaborate and I didn’t either. Was I suppose to say, “Of course I’m not happy-I’m not visiting! I live here so I don’t get the luxury of indulging your bullshit for a few days then going back to my life free of your judgments, criticisms and constant complaining! No, I’m HERE in a place that was never my home, vacillating on a daily basis form feeling like a parent to a child to maybe myself for a minute or two and that’s when I’m not depressed that I don’t have my life, my apartment, my partner, my things and my fricking day to do as I damn well please instead of tip=toeing around wondering when I’m going to hear “Can you come her for a minute?” so I can fetch you something!”

Of course I didn’t say any of that and I have felt all of that but not lately. I thought things were going better and that I….was…..happy……here.