Perfection is key (Sean)

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Maria sighed as she walked toward the office. She usually was cheery but not today, she was serious. Something had to be done about her disorder. If it wasn't one thing it was another. First she was just going to brush her hair but then she noticed how awful the mirror looked so she grabbed a paper towel and wiped it down. Then she noticed the floor and ended up cleaning it as well, completely forgetting that she was only going to brush her hair. 

So here she was freaking out while going to the psychiatrist. She never been to one of those before, only a psycholigist. She didn't think she would like him because she didn't like medicine which is what psychiatrists could do that psychologists couldn't. Maria almost stopped what she was doing at the thought of a needle going in her skin. He wouldn't do that...would he? She gulped and kept walking until she found the office and knocked three times.  She sighed shakely and looked around to notice a mark on the wall. It wasn't that bad but she was going to get rid of it anyway, she had to get rid of it. She almost pouted as she found her finger trying to erase it off the wall.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean’s duties as the Hammel psychiatrist were far-reaching. He acted as a resource for the other faculty, since he had been with the school for over two decades (rapidly nearing two and a half). He was the head of the Mental Health Services Department, which was far less impressive given how often it consisted only of him, or now of him and Evan as his assistant for the time between the present and when the younger man decided to continue with his education in psychology. He gave the annual Sexual Education lecture in lieu of a standard health class. He acted as the disciplinarian for infractions more major than missing class but not major enough to warrant a meeting with Yvette as Headmistress. He reviewed the files of all incoming students to screen for who required attention from him in his capacity as a counselor and as a psychiatrist. Even those who didn’t meet with him initially had notes in their file.

Maria had notes in her file.

Anyone with a diagnosed mental health concern was on his radar, even if sessions had yet to be arranged. Thus, the psychiatrist was aware of her.

This was always why he wasn’t surprised when he heard the knock at his door and the telepathy informed him that Maria was outside. He simply rose from his desk to find her file and called out, “Please come in, Maria.”

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Maria smiled wide and almost giggled when the mark was finally gone. She was so excited that she barely heard her name being called. Her eyes went wide and she wondered how on Earth he knew her name before remembering a few people gossiping about him. People gossiped about everything it seemed, but she didn't have any room to talk. She slowly opened the door and smiled at the man. She really was trying to act calm but her thoughts kept giving her away. She was so nervous and scared of anything that had to do with medicine, mostly because of needles and blood that came to mind. She didn't think he would do that though.

She slowly made her way to his desk and stopped. "Hello Doctor Neville!" She waved nervously but didn't sit down. She wondered if that was what he liked to be called. Her psychologist liked to be called by her last name, but her doctor didn't care as long as it was polite. She finally looked at everything he had in his room. It looked nice and smelled good too, she smiled this and let a sigh of relief come out. Maybe she should just stay here forever, that way she never got distracted or have to smell something bad. She finally looked at him again and put her hands in her pockets. "How are you doing?" She felt like asking him this because how many people asked the psychiatrist how they were feeling? What if they felt down, who did they talk to?

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“Hello, Maria,” Sean returned the greeting with a gentle smile and a complete lack of nervousness. She had properly addressed him, as the psychiatrist needed to have certain levels of propriety due to his position, and because she had properly recognized him as Doctor rather than [/i]Mister[/i]. Not every student knew the difference between a psychiatrist and a psychologist in terms of degree and address, and he was glad not to have to explain that this moment.

Since she didn’t sit immediately, he gestured at the various options around the office. The two chairs in front of his desk, and then the more comfortable chairs and sofa at the other end of the office. “Please, choose somewhere to sit and make yourself comfortable.” There was no reason for her to be nervous, even if she was unused to him as her mental health professional, and he wanted her to be as comfortable as possible.

The psychiatrist was perfectly willing to engage in pleasantries before segueing into a more pressing topic. As such, he replied, “I’m doing fine today. Winter break is soon, and that’s always a nice time for relaxation.” And, this year, a nice time for family as well.

“How are you today?”

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She looked at him and then all the seating places she could sit in. Of all the things Maria had a problem with today sitting down had to be one of them. There was just so many to choose from! What if when she sat down it didn't feel right and she sat in another one, what if when she sat in that seat it wasn't perfectly aligned with his desk. She sighed and just looked back at him. "Thank you. Right now I think it would be best if I stand." She smiled politely to show she didn't meant it to be an insult. His furniture was beautiful, she couldn't help but look at his own chair. She wanted that chair in her room, she bet it felt so comfy once you sat down.

She finally looked at him again to listen up. She was happy that he was okay, but how can someone really know if the psychiatrist is lying or not? It looked like he was telling the truth so she smiled wide, happy he was having a good day. She then nodded her head. "Yep! Think I may visit my parents for winter break. They told me to stay here though since the pavement will be...rebuilt?" She looked at him confused at her last word. She wasn't sure if that was the right thing to say.

She finally gave up with the standing and just sat down in a chair near his desk. Then she shyly slid the seat in the center so that they could face each other instead of either one of them having to turn their head. Of course this was just an excuse, the real problem was far more annoying than a turned neck. "I'm fine." She looked around again as she answered this. Then she noticed her mistake and slapped her forehead. It was a major habit to say that she was fine every time someone asked her. "I mean I am physically okay. I keep getting distracted..again. It smells and looks nice in here though." She swayed her feet up and down slightly with a small smile on her face.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean didn’t force Maria to make up her mind quickly and choose a seat. They were on her time, and the psychiatrist would let her take as long as she needed in order to get comfortable. When she said that she would prefer to stand, he nodded a single time. “If that’s what you’d prefer.” It certainly made no difference to him. As someone as tall as he was, he had no moral objection to a slight height disparity during conversation; it would be hypocritical if he did.

The psychiatrist wasn’t used to hearing compliments about the olfactory appeal of his office. People didn’t denigrate it, but rarely did anyone remark on it at all. Not possessed of any enhanced senses, and as he spent forty to fifty hours in the office each week, Sean was largely unaware of the scents that abounded. Coffee, he imagined, and tea, and his cologne, and whatever cleaning supplies that the janitorial staff used. “Well, thank you.” That was the polite answer to that, and, as he was familiar with her power, he trusted her assessment.

With that, he focused on what else she had said. “I’m glad to hear that you’re all right physically.” Which he was; he was always glad to hear that students were safe and healthy. “How do you feel emotionally?”

That was undoubtedly the crux of what brought her here today.

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She was so happy that he was an understanding person. She guessed that was how he became a psychiatrist, being calm and patient. "Your welcome!" She smiled wide and her feet moved even more. Not many people knew about Maria's power at her old place so she was told to be quiet a lot when visitors arrived by her parents. She knew her parents didn't mean anything by it, it was just weird to hear someone compliment a smell that nobody else could smell. Guess they worried she would have been called a liar.

She crossed her legs and smiled a little bit more calm to his voice. His voice didn't sound bored like other people who once had to listen to her problems. How did she feel? She looked down and thought about what she should say to him. She was feeling so many things at the moment. "Frustration, annoyed, angry, calm, impatient." She looked sheepishly away from him at what she said. She knew she needed to explain it so he didn't confused. "I feel frustrated, annoyed and impatient at my OCD. It never seems to calm down. I feel angry because there are times when I need to study but I can't because I notice something that needs to be cleaned up. I feel calm now though because of you and your office." She smiled at that and looked back at him. "So peaceful, neat and quiet here."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Maria seemed to be a very pleasant young woman. This set her apart from some of the students with whom Sean interacted. Some of the students resented his presence, either because they had been sent to him for disciplinary action, or because they didn’t want to visit with him for mental health purposes. Even the ones who came voluntarily could demonstrate some resentment at times, even if others, like Maria, were in better spirits to see him.

All of the emotions she described were legitimate and were to be expected, particularly where an anxiety disorder such as OCD was concerned. By its very nature, it created stress and frustration for the person who had the disorder; those feelings were integral in diagnosis, and reducing those feelings were integral to treatment.

The psychiatrist nodded his understanding. “How about we explore that together for a bit?”

Prior to taking the job at Hammel, Sean had worked with many patients who suffered from OCD. In the twenty-plus years since coming to work at Hammel, he had continued to work with students who had the disorder, although fewer than when he had been in private practice.

The psychiatrist offered her a smile at the compliment. “Thank you. I try to maintain a peaceful environment, and so I’m glad to hear that’s paying off.”

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(ooc: sorry for the delay!)

She looked at her clothes and saw that one of her pants leg had a stain on it. The whole time she had been in here and she just now saw it. She sighed with a pout and covered the stain with her hand. Her emotions lifted slightly once she did this and she couldn't help but to smile.

She looked at him confused when he asked if it would be okay to explore that. She understood the question, but did she have to take anything for it? She felt paranoid again and had to tell herself that he was not one of those horror movie doctors before she could concentrate again. "Yes sir. I must be honest with you. I don't like medicine. It's worse than that actually, every time someone tries to give me medicine they have to chase me down. Hospitals are the worst. It took my..Mom to chase me down and they still had to strap me down to take my blood out."

Maria looked at her hands and noticed that they were shaped into fists. She loosened them up by rubbing them before putting her hands back where they were. "I'm sorry. I wouldn't have came here, of all places, unless it was urgent. This disorder is not getting better like I thought. It was, I don't get why it is worse now." She couldn't tell him that she didn't like psychiatrists, that was rude and irrational. He was good, maybe she would feel better near him when he was not being a psychiatrist. She felt so mean and bad for thinking that. She knew it was all now out in the open though because of his mind reading skills. "Sorry."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean said nothing about the stain. In general, he didn’t berate people for small matters like that, and he certainly wouldn’t with someone who had OCD. Potentially triggering intrusive thoughts or a compulsive episode was to be avoided.

In the state of Vermont, Maria was old enough to have a say in her medical treatment. If she was averse to medication, then that did not need to be the starting proposition. Sean preferred alternate methods of therapy when available, since chemical side effects existed. Often, the benefits of medication outweighed the side effects, but that varied from person to person. The psychiatrist acknowledged that with a nod. “That’s certainly something for us to keep in mind. When was your last encounter with a hospital?”

He could certainly understand her concern about the worsening of symptoms. That was always disconcerting, although it was not always a mystery. As such, he articulated his first question. “Have you been stressed recently?” While OCD could worsen for a variety of reasons, it was categorized as an anxiety disorder, and stress worsened anxiety disorders quickly enough. If it was stress, then they could work to manage the external causes, which could lead to the effects of the disorder lessening, or at least becoming stable.

“You don’t need to apologize.” He wouldn’t remark on the rest of her thoughts, but he didn’t want her to apologize for thinking. Particularly with OCD, when one had so little control over the thoughts that passed through one’s mind.

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She flinched at the question and tried to hide the fear she was feeling. She remembered it well. Her parents had to carry her to the emergency room because she slipped on a piece of glass and knocked her head on a nail. Maria repeatedly told her parents that she was fine, but she knew she wasn't. She was still bleeding once they brought her there and once she saw where she was going she ended up kicking them and running once they held her any longer. "I can't remember how old I was, but I do remember that it was summer break. It's weird too me still though. Why be scared of something when you never had a tragic experience? Doesn't add up." She shook her head and looked at him with a smile on her face.

She had to think about what she stressed about. She was always so happy that sometimes she forgot about being stressed. "Um..I failed a math exam. I never did that before. I studied for a while and I know it's weird to be stressed with a six..sixty-eight, but I am." She actually didn't know if it was normal to be upset with a bad grade. She never had one before, but when she saw others with bad grades they didn't seem upset about it. She shook her head when he said that she didn't need to apologize. "Yes I do. You guys are good, mostly. You help people and not many humans do that."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean shook his head slightly, not to dismiss her thoughts but rather to express his disagreement with the interpretation. “Not everything that triggers fear and anxiety has to be grounded in personal experience. Humans are social, and we absorb far more than merely what happens to us directly.” He then nodded to acknowledge his understanding of the gaps in the timeline, and he made a mental note to check her medical records later.

Happiness and attention to the moment were both good reasons to forget stress, and they were also fair coping mechanisms. The psychiatrist certainly would not encourage Maria to spend more time focused on her worries and anxieties, given the nature of her diagnosis, and given how stressful middle school and high school were as a whole.

Still, he listened patiently as the girl recited her current sources of stress. Academic disappointment was a common cause of stress, particularly if one had never failed an exam before. “It isn’t strange to be stressed over a grade like that.” It wasn’t uncommon, and he didn’t want her to believe that she was atypical for that. “Have you spoken to your teacher about it?”

The question served dual purposes, both as general strategizing for the situation as well as a means by which he could gauge her stress responses.

He smiled at the compliment. “There are a lot of helpers out there, but I do recognize the point.” He wouldn’t argue that further.

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She nodded her head at his explanation. She thought that there would have been a reason for something like that. She always felt like someone was going to try and take something out of her at the hospital, besides what is needed to come out. The main problem was having her blood drawn, she felt that it was was supposed to stay in her body and that they were going to take too much...and then she would die. "Ohhh okay. So it's like the fear of spiders. They said that most people who have it never had a tragic experience, instead they are afraid of what they look like." She was happy she wasn't one of them.

She shook her head fast with wide eyes at talking to her teacher about it. She hid her emotions from others, besides being happy. When she was upset or something she would hide it away from everyone by smiling and talking about something else. When she saw the grade in the class room she just turned the paper over and put it in her binder. As soon as the bell rang she walked fast out of there and cried in her bathroom, not a happy time. "I rather not talk to my teacher about it. I will just study harder."

She smiled again at his smile. She loved to make people smile. "Yep! Like charity and doctors." Crap...why did she say doctors? She looked at her pants and started fixing them.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

It wasn’t quite the same, since fear of spiders was learned (as most fears were) but was also grounded in a visceral reaction. However, it was similar enough, particularly since Maria had grasped the underlying point about trauma being unnecessary for a fear. As such, Sean nodded in agreement. “Yes, it’s similar to that. There are all manner of things in life that make people anxious or afraid, most of it comes about through benign reasons.” As opposed to Posttraumatic Stress Disorder, which, by definition, was the result of a traumatic experience.

Since she expressed her desire not to meet with a teacher, the psychiatrist would respect that. “If you don’t want to speak with your teacher, you don’t have to.” He certainly wouldn’t force such a conference. However, she had been so quick to deny the possibility that he had to follow up. “Is everything all right with that teacher?”

As Sean had said previously, he took no offense to what she said. He knew that she was nervous, and she had not said anything particularly problematic. However, as she hadn’t apologized, he wouldn’t tell her that it was unnecessary and set off another round of explanations about manners. He was fine to simply let it pass without comment. “Charity is important,” he agreed. “And much of it is genuine.”

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She was happy she got it right. She knew this was no quiz or anything but she was always happy when she had something right. She smiled at him and swayed her feet back and forth. Benign, that was going to be her word of the day...tomorrow. Today's word is help, since she needed help today it made perfect since too her. She nodded her head to him but couldn't think of anything to say.

She let a sigh of relief come out once she heard that she didn't have to speak with her teacher. The teacher was nice, but she just didn't like talking to people about her problems except for Dr. Neville and that was only because he was a professional. Once she heard his question she couldn't help but to nod her head. "Yes sir, everything is fine with that teacher. Very nice and she goes into detail which is good." She nodded her head a few more times before stopping. She didn't want her teach to get into trouble.

She didn't know she said anything bad. Charity and Doctors both helped people feel better so she didn't see the point of apologizing. "Sorry if I said anything wrong." She did so anyway because she was just that way. Even if she wasn't the one who did something she said sorry. She fiddled with her pants and started tracing invisible butterflies on it.