Going Round in Circles

‘So, tell me, doctor, what is the difference between obsession and addiction? Because I’m not sure.’

Dr Edmond put his finger to his mouth. He always did that when he was struggling for an answer.

‘Well,’ he said, crossing his legs, ‘why don’t you tell me what you think the difference is, Francis?’

He always did that as well. Sometimes Frankie wondered why she was paying for these therapy sessions when the doctor had her doing all the work.

‘I’ll have to mull it over it and get back to you,’ she said, looking at her watch. ‘My time’s up.’

***

It took Frankie around 15 minutes to walk back to her apartment from Dr Edmond’s office, but 13 minutes 23 seconds was her best time. She resisted the urge to set her stopwatch and try to beat her record.

‘Give yourself a break,’ she whispered to herself, and instead decided to run through the first movement of a sonata she was learning on her piano, imagining her fingers moving up and down the keys.

‘Are you alright, love?’, a kind-faced woman asked as Frankie hovered too long on the side of a busy road.

Frankie stared at her, trying to pull herself out of her world. The truth was that she’d hit a wrong note in the fifth bar and had to keep going back to the beginning until she played it perfectly. ‘Oh, I’m fine,’ she said, smiling brightly. ‘I just realised I might have left the iron on’.

The woman patted her arm. ‘Oh, well we’ve all done that,’ she said, and carried on walking.

Late that night, Frankie crawled under her covers, with a pumping heart, having finally slammed the lid down on her piano. Three hours it had taken her to get that piece right, to play it without mistakes, with no pauses.

***

‘Do you enjoy playing the piano?,’ Dr Edmond asked.

Tough question. ‘I like the way it requires all my concentration,’ said Frankie, after a few minutes of consideration. ‘It’s a process. A focus. So it keeps the wolves from the door.’

‘And the wolves are…?’

Had he never listened to a word she’d said, or was he just doodling cartoons in that notepad of his?

‘The thoughts, of course,’ she said.

***

At five minutes to midday, Hester poked her head over the screen that separated their desks. ‘Hey Frankie, are we still swimming tonight?’

Frankie nodded. ‘100 lengths?’

‘Gosh, girl, you’re getting into this swimming aren’t you?’

They’d started a few months ago, doing thirty lengths, but Frankie kept pushing for more.

‘Well, I’d like to build up to 200,’ she said.

Hester threw her head back and laughed.

‘In that case, you’re incredible, but you’re also on your own. 100 is my limit. More than that and I’ll stop enjoying it.’

Doing something for enjoyment was lost on Frankie. Swimming was a means to an end, like most things she did.

***

‘Can you remember when these obsessive thoughts, as you call them, really began?’

Dr Edmond had his pen at the ready, though Frankie was sure she’d told him this before.

‘When I was six or seven. I thought all my hair was going to fall out, don’t know why. It lasted about a year.’

‘And after that?’

She folded her arms. ‘Well then it was something else, then something else, then something else, but I can’t tell you what so don’t ask.’ Her voice was clipped.

‘Why can’t you tell me?’

Frankie’s pulled a cushion close to her, then gripped it tight. ‘Because I’m scared,’ she said quietly.

‘Scared of what?’, the doctor asked, leaning forward.

Her eyes darted left and right. ‘Scared that if I tell you about them, then they’ll come back,’ she whispered.

***

Two days later and Hester was over for brunch.

‘Go on then,’ she said, , ‘knock me out a tune on that piano.’

Frankie shook her head. ‘I can’t play in front of people.’

‘Ah, go on.’

So she did, although her hands were shaking.

‘Wow, that’s really good. I played for a few years and only managed Grade 2. Mind you, I never practised. I don’t know where you find the time or the motivation, what with the swimming, running and all that.’

‘Well, I let other things go by the wayside, to make the time. Like the housework!’

Hester glanced round at the pristine apartment.

‘You don’t give yourself enough credit,’ she said. Then she leaned over and picked a hair from Frankie’s black cardigan.

‘You’re moulting, girl!’, she said, and laughed. As soon as Frankie had closed the door on Hester, she rushed to the bathroom, running her fingers through her hair to see if any came out in her hands.

***

‘Do you understand your compulsion to exercise?’ Dr Edmond turned to a fresh page, like he was the pupil and Frankie the teacher.

‘Well it fills my head with something else, stops me overthinking. And being healthy stops me worrying about getting ill.’

‘Are you addicted to the exercise?’

That thorny question. ‘No.’

‘But you like how it makes you feel?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I like how it makes me not feel.’

***

When she got back to her apartment, which she did in the record time of 12 minutes, 58 seconds, Hester was waiting.

‘You’re cutting it fine,’ Hester said. ‘The film starts in 20 minutes.’

She’d forgotten, but daren’t say so. She wanted to explain how her thoughts had been so bad today that they’d pushed everything else out of her mind. But she couldn’t. She didn’t want to be that friend with 'issues'.

‘It’ll be fine,’ she said, waving her hand. ‘I’ll just grab my jacket. We’ll be there in plenty of time.’

‘You are sooo laid back, girl,’ said Hester.

***

‘How do you feel about medication?’, Dr Edmond asked.

‘No thanks.’

‘Have you tried it before?’

‘Yes’.

‘And?’

‘It worked like a dream.’ And it had. After two weeks all her unruly thoughts had put themselves into straight lines, and she had been capable of thinking something through to its conclusion, without interruption. ‘But that’s why I can’t take it again.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Dr Edmond.

It was a convoluted explanation. About how she was afraid that if the thoughts she’d had all her life were gone, she’d be an empty shell of a person. How she no longer knew where the thoughts ended and she began, because they were so hopelessly tangled together. How her endless energy, her motivation, all her achievements were because of them, and without them, she’d feel bereft.

‘So tell me why you’re here, then?’, the doctor asked.

Frankie looked down at her lap. ‘Because I just needed someone to know, that’s all.’

***

‘Hey, your hair looks great like that!’, said Hester, as she caught up with Frankie in the office car park. ‘It’s ages since you had it down. It’s grown so long!’

‘Thanks Hester, just fancied a change.’

In fact she’d been up until the small hours reading stories on the internet about ponytails and hair loss. It had made her hot and panicky, and she’d carefully removed the elastic from her hair and fallen into a fitful sleep.

‘So did you do your 200 lengths on Saturday?’

‘Yes. My arms are killing me today. But I was glad I did it.’

Hester pressed the button for the lift with her elbow.

‘Why did you do that?’, asked Frankie.

‘Just think of all those germs that are on that button!,’ Hester said. ‘Gross!’

Frankie flushed. ‘Gosh, I’ve never thought about that before.’ She felt sick inside.

‘Let’s make a coffee,’ said Hester. ‘I’ve got loads to tell you about Saturday night.’

Frankie pulled the sleeve of her cardigan over her hand before letting them into the office kitchenette. Their colleague James was already in there.

‘Hi, ladies... Still up for that run after work, Frankie?’

Frankie painted on a smile. She was exhausted and just wanted to go home and curl up. ‘Yeah, of course!,’ she said. ‘I’ll meet you in the car park at 6’.

Hester handed her a drink. ‘You’re so motivated, Frankie. I wish I was more like you!’

‘Be careful what you wish for,’ thought Frankie.

***

‘So Francis,’ said Dr Edmund, his hands folded under his chin. ‘How are you feeling today?’

Frankie had to hold back a smile at the banality of the question.

‘I feel like an ice-cream,’ she said.

The doctor paused momentarily before scribbling something in his pad, then he sat up straight.

‘How long have you been feeling like this?’, he asked, his face all frowns.

‘Since this morning,’ said Frankie. ‘Because it’s so damn hot outside.’

Dr Edmond’s face softened. ‘Oh, I see. You mean you feel like eating an ice-cream?’

‘Yes, exactly. I feel like an ice-cream.’

He chuckled to himself. ‘I thought you meant…’

‘I knew what you’d think. That’s why I said it. I was just messing around.’

‘It was funny,’ he said. For once he looked like a normal human being, and she felt like one.

‘So’, he said, his expression reverting to type, ‘did you mull over the difference between obsession and addiction?’

‘Well I did try but it got too confusing. If addiction is about desire and obsession about fear, and all that I desire is to be less fearful, then I’m going round in circles, don’t you think?’

There was a pause as Dr Edmond chewed the end of his pen.

‘Mmm, interesting,’ he said. ‘Leave that one with me.’

And so she did, smashing her best time and getting home in 12 minutes and 46 seconds.