A reassuring and friendly smile warmly greets me as soon as I approach the front desk. Trembling ever so slightly, I take the clipboard and allow myself to be ushered into the waiting room. As I glance around my surroundings, I slowly sink into the chair right next to the fish tank. Taking a look at the clipboard I start to realize just how real this is all becoming for me, I'm finally doing it, I'm taking the beginning steps to fix my life. Years ago I never thought I'd find myself in this chair, terrified of being psychoanalyzed, along with petrified of being completely vulnerable. Yet somehow, the waiting room comforts me, and makes the reality a little less threatening.
I'm not entirely sure what it is about this room that I like so much. I don't know if its the posters, pamphlets, magazines, and books that are all geared to be positive and helpful that surround me and are within an arms reach. Or perhaps it is the TV screen that consistently plays calming scenes like waves rolling onto the shoreline, or trees blowing gently in the breeze. It could even be the temperature in the room, its never too hot nor too cold. Sometimes I think it's the fish tank. Although the tank is huge I am mostly positive that it truly only houses three fish, but the bubbling of the water is relaxing. The muffled music of sweet instruments chiming together plays quietly over the speakers, and I've wondered if that could be it. However, if I was to be honest with myself, it's the chair that is most comforting. When I sink into the cushion slowly, I am able to let everything go, clear my mind, and start to find my peace. Thats right, it's the chair. .
The peculiar thing is, the chair in itself isn't all that comfortable. It's what the chair symbolizes to me. In my mind, the chair in the waiting room is the exact same chair that will be in the private and sound proof office. It doesn't really matter what the chair looks like, it is all the same to me.
