The Last Time You Called by Carmi Heyman

Author:Carmi Heyman [Heyman, Carmi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-10-12T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 34: Lisa

Six Months Ago

I quickly fall down the search engine rabbit hole.

I find numerous articles on relationship health, dozens of YouTube videos on loneliness. What anxiety feels like. As I read, the same phrase appears in a million different variations. Depression is normal, normal, normal.

It’s funny, but not funny ha-ha. Because it’s not what I’ve been told all my life.

Terms like depression and anxiety weren’t permitted in our house. Whenever I talked about how I felt, instead of what I thought or did, my father would leave the room. And when I had that brief episode that ended with me in hospital, he wasn’t there. Only Eleanor was. I still remember her hand patting mine, chalking the situation down to fatigue. I’d be better tomorrow, she’d said, and I just needed time to lick my wounds.

But we’re not going down that road. The wedding, my red dress. You in your tux, rigid and shocked at the sight of me there.

I think back to school and uni. How the topic of mental health was largely talked away. There were conversations about it. But I never took part in any of it, because why would I have? I was surrounded by lively, high-on-life people who were drunk on life and love, and had the education and money to carry them. As Eleanor kept telling me, I had everything to be grateful for, and nothing to be sad about.

And yet, I keep scrolling. Googling symptoms. Everything feels so … me. Lost. Alienated. Self-harming (can’t deny that one). Self-loathing. Stressed. Tired.

All of it is me.

You should seek help, they say. Talk to someone. But who would I speak to?

A friend, they say. A family member, a lover. So I take inventory of the people in my life. Eleanor, the mother who I’ve disappointed time and time again. Ruth, the best friend who I keep bothering with my problems. Seb, who I’ve hurt. Deb, who drinks her problems away, just like me. Greg, who’s off-limits. And Ana, a friendly face, but one that makes me hesitate.

No, talking to anyone in my immediate circle wouldn’t work.

I type in find someone to talk to, and watch the results flood in. I avoid the ads, and find an article linking to a directory for counsellors and therapists in Spain. The more I see, the more lost I feel.

There must be a better way.

I settle on a woman therapist in Bilbao with experience in self-esteem and depression. But when I look at her profile, the logistics of my expedition become clear.

How would I get to her office? What would I tell Seb?

I type online therapist into the search bar.

The headline jumps out at me. Start Being Happy Today.

I keep reading. Speak to a licensed counsellor anytime, anywhere. What are you waiting for?

I never click on ads, but this one pulls me in. When I land on the page, the banner reads InCheck—confidential and convenient therapy.

I scroll down the page, ignoring a prompt to take InCheck’s starter quiz. There’s

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