Page 16 of None Of Your Business

“Head doctors aren’t my thing.”

“Head doctors?”

“Psychiatrists, psychologists, therapists. Anyone who stares at you for too long and asks how things make you feel. My brother is a psychologist, but I love him, so he gets a pass.”

“Is this because of your mother?”

My shoulders stiffen. “That’s a stretch.”

“Is it inaccurate?”

I stare at the anatomical knee diagram on the wall. Tibial plateau. Femoral condyle. Meniscus. Safe. Nobody asks a knee joint how it feels about its childhood.

“My mother has bipolar disorder,” I say. “Her mental health is managed.”

“I know, but you spent a large part of your childhood watching someone you love navigate a severe illness. It’s understandable if you may have learned young that engaging with mental health care feels like surrendering control.”

I don’t have a joke ready for that.

“Her experience isn’t yours,” Mercer continues. “Therapy isn’t something done to you. You choose the provider, and you can walk out whenever you want. I also think you could benefit from a space to talk about what it feels like to live in your body.”

“I talk.”

“About this?”

“We’re literally talking about it right now.”

“You spend these appointments trying to convince me you’re fine. You told me you were fine after admitting your shoulder partially dislocated while you were asleep.”

“I don’t understand how talking about my joints is going to fix my joints.”

“It won’t, but it might change how you respond when your body doesn’t cooperate.”

I bark a humorless laugh. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Pain affects mood,” she says. “Fatigue affects cognition. Chronic illness changes how you work, how you socialize, and how safe it feels to want things when you don’t know whether your body will let you have them.” She opens a desk drawer. “I can’t order you to do anything, but take this home.”

She slides a pamphlet across the desk.

Westbrook Medical and Research Center.

“There’s a chronic illness program that combines medical support with psychological services. I’ve referred patients there for years.”

“A support group?”

“They offer group therapy, yes.”

I scan the text: Individual therapy. Group programs. Chronic pain management. Research.

“I don’t want to sit in a circle and tell strangers about my joints.”

“Then don’t.”

“That’s it? No persuasive speech?”

“I’ve already given you several.”

I smile despite myself and shove the folded paper into my pocket. “I’ll keep it.”