My Peace is More Important Than a Phone Call

A short story about Maizie and her mental health is a message we all need to hear about the importance of boundaries and protecting our peace.

Maizie’s patience was thin and the clear lack of anything to keep her occupied while she waited and waited, and waited some more, frayed her nerves. Throwing the last of the dog-eared and wrinkled psychology and therapy magazines back onto the end table, she exhaled while her feet kept rhythm to the beat of boredom.

She already replied to the three work-related texts that chimed in successive order before she could even walk in the door. And this despite the fact that she informed the team of her requested leave and unavailability for the rest of the afternoon. Maizie thought, Why even bother to take leave when you work through it anyway?

Her appointment was supposed to have started thirty minutes ago, which was twenty minutes before the elderly couple arrived and had to have the check-in instructions yelled to them because neither were wearing their hearing aids; ten minutes before a sullen teenager sank into a chair in the corner while his mom struggled with getting paperwork and insurance cards out of two large bags bursting at the seams, dropping litter everywhere in the process; and five minutes before a middle-aged man boisterously entered, irate that his prescription would not be renewed until he made an appointment.

And still, here she sat. Gazing around the small waiting room, careful not to linger too long in any one place, eventually her eyes came to rest on the art adorning the only unoccupied portion of the room.

Couldn’t they just settle for regular, mediocre, mass-produced art? Did everything need to convey some hidden meaning? I mean, people in bubbles stretching their hands out; where do they get this stuff from, The Gallery of Art for Mental Health Waiting Rooms? Sure, clear boundaries allow you to reach for a brighter future. But if it was as easy as inserting yourself into a sphere, I definitely wouldn’t be sitting here.

Irritated, she rolled her eyes to the heavens. How many times had boundaries come up in her sessions? Literally, like every single one.

The hard of hearing elderly couple resumed exchanging elevated voices with the receptionist. The conversation decibel rose so loud she almost didn’t hear her name being called.

Finally!

Scooping up her purse, she headed for the safety of Dr. Gould’s room. Maizie started coming here a couple of years ago, when the perfect storm of dealing with narcissistic family members, a career, a marriage, and kids became altogether too much. The first couple of therapists she tried were absolutely not a fit, between the one whose office smelled like cigarettes or the one who sat behind the computer the entire time asking irrelevant questions. The third time proved a charm with Dr. Helene Gould.

Today’s appointment resembled any other, in that the issue of setting boundaries arose yet again. Maizie struggled to implement them, a persisting symptom of a lifetime of being told she was never enough and continually being guilt-tripped into doing things she would rather not. She evolved into a high-flying overachiever and an easy mark, a double dose that threatened her peace and ability to live life on her terms. Honestly, it was exhausting and unsustainable. Something needed to change.

The appointment ended and Maizie grabbed her things. As she exited into the waiting room, her phone rang. Retrieving it and rotating the screen to face her, the caller ID displayed a certain family member’s number. Sighing, she resigned herself to answering when her eyes glanced up and landed on the artwork that so irritated her earlier.

Boundaries. I don’t have to take this call.

Moving her thumb from answer to ignore, she tapped the red button and dropped the phone back into the recesses of her purse.

My peace is more important than a phone call, she said to herself as she opened the door and walked into the afternoon sunshine.