Why can’t you tell that I’m lying?
Why can’t you hear it in my voice?
Don’t you hear the halting speech, the pauses…searching for the right word to convey the illusion of sanity?
Why can’t you see it in my eyes?
Don’t you notice that they rarely look at you while I speak? They dart around the room, looking for an anchor.
Why can’t you see my trembling hands?
Don’t you see them shredding the tissue in my lap? Flittering around, trying to convey something I can’t express in words.
How can you sit there and say “I’m pleased to see that you seem like you’re doing well.”
And why do I hide it from you?
Why do I go from “I’m struggling, I need help” to “Oh yes, I’m fine and don’t need another appointment right now” by the end of the session?