April 20th, 2017by whiskered-fish
I’m not mentally an adult yet, but I’m still expected to keep pace with every one of my peers who is, most of whom have been mentally adults for years and years. I feel like I’m trying to run a race with concrete shoes, and I’ve felt that way for most of my life, to some degree or another.
Did I ever tell you guys that one of my psychiatrists actually quit? Not his job, but my case. That’s right, I was such a mess that my psychiatrist quit on me.
According to him, and I’m paraphrasing him to the best of my memory, “Kat is very intelligent. Intellectually, she surpasses many people her age. But emotionally, she’s much younger than her age, which makes her a very difficult case.”
Too difficult a case for him to confidently handle. So he passed me on to another psychiatrist in another city.
I was shocked. Not because he quit on me, although I did find that bitterly hilarious. I was shocked that someone had finally put this frustration of mine into words. I’d always known that I was different—different in a bad way—and I’d always known that I just couldn’t relate to or keep up with most of my peers. But I never knew how to explain why, until he did.
I don’t think I’ll ever be able to catch up. I can’t help but fear that there will always be this dissonance between mind, heart, and vessel.