The Psychiatrist

I knock at the door. “Good Morning!” I say. “Good morning to you.” She replies. “How are you feeling today?”
“Not so bad, I guess. It’s just these things in my head. Each day is different, but they fill me with dread.”
“I struggle to sleep, the anxiety is high. Then I panic and shake, then just burst out and cry.”
“Don’t worry.” She says. “We will fix you. Stay calm! I will make sure that you come to no harm.”
It comforts me to know that help is at hand and that she can help me sift through all the gravel and sand.
To find all the answers, for these things in my brain. “Come and sit.” She says. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Please tell me your thoughts. What things do you see? Show me your demons. I will set them all free.”
I talk about my childhood. Growing up was such joy! But I’d had a problem with another young boy.
“He would hurt me and tease me and call me some names. Not just me, but another boy James!”
“Useless! And Pathetic! To name just a few. He had no idea of the things I’d been through.”
“Sometimes he would hit me. Punch me hard on my arm. Some days I feared he would do me great harm.”
“One day I saw him, rush through the door. He grabbed me and laughed and threw my bags on the floor.”
“Then he scarpered away like a dog on the loose. Looking for somebody else to abuse.”
“I hate him! I hate him! He’s made my life hell. Why was he so nasty? He’s clearly not well.”

“I tend to agree with you.” My lady gently says. “Probably had his own problems and vented his rage.”
“Underneath all the bravado, there is someone crying out. He was most probably bullied himself, of that I’ve no doubt.”
“Now you mention it.” I say. “I don’t know if the rumours were true? But sometimes he came to school with his arms black and blue.”
“The other kids said his Dad hit him with a stick. And if all that is fact, then that makes me feel sick.”
“On another day he came in with blood on his head. Said he’d banged it on his door when he got out of bed.”
“Now I think about it, was he harmed by his Dad? If he was, then that’s really quite sad.”
“So in effect. He was just a victim like me. Well that’s something I really didn’t expect to see.”
My lady talks candidly about this bully of mine. “It’s a cycle of violence that spreads over time.”
“The bully feels emotions both controlling and strong. He’s severely misguided. Doesn’t know right from wrong.”
“He thought it was normal to throw his weight around. Grab small little boys and knock them to the ground.”
“It made him feel better to be the king of his crew. His motto....Do unto others as has been done unto you.”
“But perspective is needed.” My shrink gently says. “One step at a time, towards better days.”
I feel so much happier having spoken of my issues, whilst wiping my tears with her velvet soft tissues.
I think differently now of my childhood bully. It wasn’t his fault. I understand fully.
Next time that I see him I shall speak with ‘Big Jake’. And explain what he did was a horrid mistake.
To hurt people’s feelings creates anger and hate. But to suffer in silence is an even worse fate.
I shall tell him to report his Dad, who’s a thug. And give words of comfort and offer a hug.
Perhaps we’ll be friends till the end of our days? Now things are much clearer I can help change his ways.
For I now understand the pain he’s been through. Let’s hope we can move forward and start things anew.
A weight has been lifted, from off of my head and I no longer worry about those days filled with dread.
“Thank you!” I say. “Now I shall go for a walk.” It’s always much better to seek help and talk.
Remember, don’t bury your head in the sand. Discuss all your problems, for help is at hand!















Copyright LAWRENCE SHAVE 26/11/2024