Tried With Fire - (Ruth Harris Series)

Chapter 7

I had a nice day at work. The psychiatric hospital I was visiting wasn't too long a drive from Olivia's school, so thankfully my lingering tiredness was not aggravated. When I arrived there, a certain 'Dr Smith' was at the doors to greet me. He shook my hand, smiled and said,
'Thank you for coming, Mrs Brookes. I'm so pleased to finally meet you in person.' He had a rich, throaty, American accent, which suddenly alerted all of my alters to tune in. Charity was especially curious. I kept myself composed and replied,
'Thank you, I'm happy to be here. I know how much this hospital is doing for people like me, and I'm grateful for doctors like you who are making a difference.'
               Then he held a door open for me and led me through reception, down a corridor and into his office. Walking beside the white walls gave me a sense of déjà vu I didn't entirely hate. He gestured to a leather seat, and took his place behind a big oak desk.
'So, Mrs Brookes, -'
'Oh, please, call me Ruth.'
'Alright.' He smiled again. 'Well, Ruth, your presentation is scheduled to start at nine o'clock. Forty of our nurses will be coming to hear you speak, as well as myself and our two other psychiatrists. How does that sound?'
'Like you have an eager group of staff.' I said, only slightly nervous. I'd done meetings like this a million times by now, and always successfully. That's not to say I'd never dissociated in a seminar or meeting, but on the rare occasions that I had, the other people in the room never judged me or kicked me out of their workplace. No. Sometimes they'd give me a glass of water, or a minute to find my place, or simply their undivided attention as I did something mesmerising right before their eyes. Switching personalities as quickly as I do is not an every day sight for most people - sometimes I even think that when I walk into a room full of trainees, some of them have their fingers crossed under the table, hoping I will dissociate so they can meet one of my alters directly!
               'That we do.' Dr Smith replied warmly, interlacing his fingers on his desk. 'We've had public speakers hold seminars here before, but we've never had the pleasure of a visit from someone as established as yourself, Mrs - Ruth.'
'Oh, I wouldn't say 'established'.' I tittered. 'I'm just someone with a story to tell.'
'And a very interesting story at that!' Dr Smith arose from his chair and walked over to his overflowing, yet impeccably neat, bookshelf and took a thin, plain book down from it. 'I've read this one three times.'
               I read the title: 'The Psychology of Wounds Unhealed - a collaboration between Ruth Brookes, DID, and Dr Brian Westone, PhD.'
'Ah,' I said shyly, 'I'm glad you like it.'
'I think it's inspired! I'd never read a book written with both sides of the coin in it before.'
'Well, that's why I partnered up with my old therapist to write it. All I had to do was keep a diary, and write down every situation that troubled me or caused me to dissociate, or every time I second-guessed myself, and then Dr Westone analysed it with his knowledge of psychiatry. That's why each chapter starts off with one of my rambling entries, and ends with Westone's explanation of why I felt those things when other people might not even notice that there's something to feel anxious about.'
               Dr Smith watched me speak, as if I was qualified and competent like he was. I loved being looked at in that way. Hunter often looked at me that way too. And when Dr Westone and I were writing that book, he looked at me with the same impressed eyes. Olivia looked up to me as if I was the brainiest woman in the world. What had I done to deserve such a reputation?
'I think Ruth's self esteem is the most changeable thing in this world - even more than Olivia deciding what cereal she wants in the morning.'
               'Again,' Dr Smith said, 'inspired. I wish more people had your courage. Maybe the world would be a more understanding place. I watched your interview on the BBC not long ago - I was very proud to see somebody with your past speaking out about their struggles, and not being afraid to show your face to the world.' He sat down again.
               'Ah, well, I spent too long being ashamed of things that weren't my fault.' I admitted. 'Even after I broke out of feeling guilty for the trauma in my childhood, and then my reckless teenage years, I still had to get out of my victim mentality. I went from being ashamed to being self-pitiful, which was possibly even more depressing. It took a long time for me to realise I was not to blame for the abuse I endured as a child, and that my years of drugs and alcohol and rehabs were over and I could just, move on. If I hadn't, I would have missed out on all the happiness life has brought me since!'
'I'm thrilled you see it that way, Ruth.' Dr Smith said.
               I wasn't sure if we were competing to see who could hold eye contact the longest, or if this guy just had a gazey way about him. Most therapists do: it's the most reassuring and most disconcerting thing in the world. 'And I'm sure you will help my staff to see it that way too. Oh, and one of our DID patients is a big fan of your work - during her daily time in the computer room she watches all your speeches. She has your two novels beside her bed as if they were the Bible!'
'Wow!' I laughed. 'I don't deserve such an honour.'
'She really likes my work? She really watches all of my speeches and reads my books and follows my career!?'
'You're a public figure, Ruth.' Charity replied in the space of a millisecond. 'People look up to you.'
'So you can't mess up.' Hailey added.
               'I'd be happy to meet this patient, if that would be allowed.' I added to Dr Smith. He raised his eyebrows.
'I don't have a problem with that! It would make her year.'
'Well, anything to encourage a fellow convalescent.'
'Sure. But for now we should get to the conference room. People'll start to gather soon. How do you feel?' Dr Smith studied my face earnestly as we both stood up.
'As confident as someone with eleven personalities can feel.'
'Hopefully that is as confident as any other person?'
'It is indeed.'
               We shared one more smile and then he led me back down the corridor, around a corner, and into a big, newly furnished room. There was a huge square of tables around the edge of it, with at least fifty seats and paper and pens in front of every single one. There was a smart board at the front of the room but I never used technology in my talks: it's confusing, and unreliable. Call me old school, but I miss the days when teachers would just speak to their students, human to human, without overwhelming their senses with bright colours and screens and loud noises until the children forget what it is they are supposed to be learning! But then, me and school never did see eye-to-eye on much. (Maybe I've just watched Dead Poets' Society too many times. What do you think?)
               'This looks very professional.' I said, finding a place at the front of the room and sitting down. Dr Smith sat at the adjacent table.
'Well you are a professional, and so are we. Oh, and before people start coming in, if you feel like you are going to dissociate or if you need anything at all, feel free to ask any one of us for help. We are all here to support each other.'
'Thank you.' I said to him sweetly, although in my head, I thought,
'Do you say the same to everyone who comes in here to speak? Or am I more in need of assistance than the 'normal' speakers, somehow?'
'Oh Ruth, get off your high horse. If you need help, ask 'im for 'elp. That's all there is to it.'