-Phobias-

The therapist sat in a chair across from the waif of a girl sitting on the couch. She had her fingers wrapped around the couch, her knuckles white from the pressure. Her knees were pressed together tightly and her lips were folded between her teeth.

“Sophie, why don’t we start with you Amaxophobia. That’s-“

“My fear of riding in cars. I know,” Sophie nodded. Her long auburn hair fell across her face and she sat that way for a moment, her face curtained in hair. She pushed her hair back with both hands and looked up at the therapist with big hazel eyes. “I didn’t used to be.” She gnawed on her bottom lip and sighed. “My parents were killed in a car accident a year ago. I mean…I know it’s my file but that’s the reason I have Amaxophobia. I used to be okay with riding in cars but now I take the bus a lot or I ride my bike.”

“Does that complicate your life?”

Sophie shrugged and reached up to tug on her hair. “Not as much as the OCD.”

“Do you want to talk about that?”

Sophie shrugged. “That I’ve had all my life. I’m fine with that. Or as fine as I can be with something that occasionally incapacitates me.”

“You’ve got a lot fears and issues.”

Sophie nodded. “Basket case,” she whispered.

“I didn’t say that. We can work on all of this.”
“Sorry. I have this phobia of people talking about me,” Sophia said. “I think they’re whispering about me, talking about me where ever I go. It’s never anything good. If I hear people speaking a language that I don’t, I assume they’re talking about me. My psychiatrist thinks I’m self absorbed. I don’t think that’s it. I’m just paranoid.”

“Why do you think they’re talking about you?”

Sophie shrugged and looked up at the therapist then looked down. She bit her fingernails and then put both hands in her lap, fingers twining to keep them there. “There’s so much to talk about. I’m too skinny, I’m too weird. I’m too quiet and too isolated. My parents are gone and I went a little crazy. “ She shrugged again and stared at her hands twined in her lap.

“So what do you do when you go out?”

“Usually? I put my ipod on, plug the earbuds into my ears and I wear big sunglasses, stare straight ahead and don’t look at anyone. It helps if I don’t actually see the people I think are talking about me,” Sophie answered.

The therapist nodded and Sophie knew it was meant to be encouraging. She took a breath, struggling to make it deep and failing miserably. “Most of the time I’m alright. It’s better now than it was in New York City but sometimes I just sit in the corner of my apartment with my hands over my head and wait for it to go away and then I worry that the neighbors notice that I’m not leaving my apartment so they’re talking about me. I don’t order food because I’m afraid the pizza delivery guy will notice that I’m…off that day and he’ll talk about me. It’s just…bad days are bad.”

“What prompts these bad days?” the therapist asked.

Sophie shook her head. “Honestly, nothing. I meant sometimes nothing. Sometimes it’s the cashier at the grocery store who tells me ice cream is on sale two for one. I get to thinking that maybe she thinks I should eat more. Sometimes it’s a night terror or sometimes it really is nothing at all.”

“And you said all of this got worse when you’re parents died?”

Sophie nodded. “Yeah. I’ve always had OCD and I’ve always been insecure but after they died, it hit me so hard some days I think I’m going to be crushed by it all.”

“We won’t let that happen, Sophie. I’m here to help. You’ll get through this.”

Ten Things That Have Changed This Year

1. My apartment
2. My occupation
3. My workload
4. My OCD became worse.
5. My method of transportation
6. My hair color (many times)
7. My insomnia got worse
8. Because my night terrors got worse.
9. The number of times I see my shrink increased.
10. I started organizing books by color instead of author or title.

Silver bells, silver bells
It's Christmas time in the city
Ring-a-ling, hear them ring
Soon it will be Christmas day


Sophie sat in the window seat looking out at the city around her. Her forehead rested against the cold glass and she was wrapped in a blanket. Christmas this year was bitter sweet. She wasn’t spending it alone, which was how she had expected to spend it. She was at Mr. and Mrs. Wilson’s house; Landry’s parents. And they had been amazing, making her feel surprisingly comfortable. It wasn’t home though and they weren’t her parents.

It was her first Christmas without her parents and she missed them. Desperately. She missed the way her mother cooked all her favorite dishes and arranged them just so. She missed the way her father joked about all her gifts being coal. She could go on and on about the things she missed but it all boiled down to one thing. She missed them with an ache that left everything sharp and clear.

Right now she was struggling against becoming completely nonfunctional. She’d already rearranged everything in the guest room which she knew was rude but she needed something to organize, something to do besides curl up in a corner and disappear.

Because that…that was what she really wanted to do. Just disappear. The way her parents had.

“Merry Christmas, Mom. Merry Christmas, Daddy,” she whispered, her breath fogging up the window. She drew a heart in the steam and watched it disappear.

Everything else did. Why couldn’t she?

My Christmas Wish List

This is hard. Most of the things I want aren’t really material

- I want to sleep all night, every night without any nightmares

- Not to embarrass Landry at his parent’s house

- Tickets to see Wicked. I actually bought these for myself for Christmas. I’m sort of hoping Landry will go with me but I haven’t asked yet

- A new pair of Jimmy Choo peek toe pumps I saw in Neiman’s the other day.

- My parents back.

- No reason to go to my psychiatrist

She was having a good day. For Sophie Culver those were far and few between. Today was one of them. She’d walked out of her apartment clad in her armor of a scarf and her over sized sunglasses. The air was cold and the sun was shining and it was a perfect New York winter day.

She’d gotten coffee at the shop around the corner, hadn’t had to wait and the barista had added an extra shot without charging her. Then she’d gotten a cab right away. The ride had been punctuated by Mariachi music, which Sophie always thought sounded like a party about to burst into being. The driver had been polite and she’d tipped him well.

The office was running quietly. No one had their heads together in their cubicles discussing Sophie and the latest mishap that might have befallen her.

And then for no clear reason at all it had slammed into her, taking her breath and leaving her huddled beneath her desk. The panic attack made it hard to breathe much less do anything else.

Amy, the accounting firm’s real receptionist had found her that way. She’d helped her to her feet, called a cab and bundled poor Sophie into the cab. Sophie was certain she could hear their whispers even blocks away locked inside the cab.

Once she’d gotten back to her apartment, the panic subsided and the glimmer of her beautiful day mocked her from the open windows. She kicked a stack of books and they toppled over.

Take that potentially beautiful day.

Ten things you spend money on that you shouldn’t


1. Expensive coffee. I love my coffee and I like it to be good coffee.

2. Cigarettes. I know they’re bad for me but I don’t do well without them.

3. More books. I know I don’t need them but I can’t stop buying them.

4. Expensive heels. I’m only 4’9 so I always wear high heels. I’ve got at least a hundred and fifty pairs. I’m still buying them.

5. Handbags. They’re an addiction. Particularly the large totes that I can put books in.

6. Hair color. I change my hair color on a very regular basis. It’s auburn today. Tomorrow it might be dark brown. You never know. I know it’s silly but it makes me feel better.

7. Those big soup like coffee mugs. I like wrapping my hands around them and sitting on the couch.

8. Fuzzy blankets. I’ve got dozens of them and I keep buying more. I’m always cold so I’m forever wrapping myself in a soft, cuddlely blanket.

9. Jackets. For the always cold reason. I’ve got a bunch of them but I keep buying more.

10. Incense. It covers the smoke smell in my apartment and makes it much less stinky.

Sophie Culver
OC

Ten Things About me, Sophie

1. My parents died six months ago in a car accident.

2. I refuse to ride in a car, any car because of it. New York has an excellent public transportation system.

3. My hair changes color so often, I'm not certain anymore what it's natural color is. Right now it's platinumn blonde.

4. I buy most of my clothes in thrift shopes and vintage shopes.

5. I work at Culver Accounting as a receptionist some days.

6. I am a horrible insomniac. I might not sleep for weeks at a time.

7. I don't own a TV but I do own hundreds and hundreds of books.

8. I see a psychiatrist three times a week.

9. I went to a private catholic school

10. I no longer believe in God.

The worst of madmen is a saint run mad by Alexander Pope


Nervous fingers plucked at the scarf wrapped around her neck as she walked through the building toward her office near the back. She kept her head ducked, sunglasses firmly in place. It was her armor against a world that seemed to align against her more and more lately. Even with her armor she could hear their whispers.

“She used to be such a sweet girl.”

“So much promise. It’s a shame really.”

“What a waste. She’s so thin. Do you think she’s anorexic?”

“Maybe bulimic. Poor girl. She just never recovered from her parents’ death.”

“Her father used to bring her to work with him. She was such an angel. He’d be so disappointed.”

She stopped, tears rushing to flood her eyes and spill over her cheeks. The whispers fell silent and she turned to walk out. She couldn’t do this. Not today. There were too many things at home she needed to do. The kitchen floor had to be bleached. The pictures needed to be rearranged and her closet was a nightmare. Tomorrow, she’d try again tomorrow.