It seems like I spend a large part of my week sitting in waiting rooms. That is not including the almost hour drive to get to the waiting room.
One waiting room has classical music playing, there is a machine where you can get coffee or tea, magazines, and mints for grounding. The other waiting room is in the middle of a hall. It has one chair and that is all.
The experiences inside of the office are night and day. One is sterile and uninviting. There are so many walls up that I feel I cannot get through. The other is welcoming and willing to talk about what is going on with life. One is willing to share a little of themselves and the other is closed off.
I miss my former psychiatrist. She was interested in my art. She would laugh and she would be empathetic. She was willing to work with a patient and see where they needed to go, then gently guide them there. I feel lost without her. She would have celebrated my accomplishments and been there through the rough times.
The waiting rooms now have me hoping for something more. Some kind of reaction. Some kind of person. Boundaries are a good thing, yet to many keep you separated to the point where there cannot even be a therapeutic relationship.
I keep hoping that something will change, yet maybe it won’t. Maybe this feeling of loneliness will persist.