"And now I'm adrift," she whispered.

Dr. Ramesh pointed out the window, toward the actual Woodstock. "There's a trail behind the Outlet Shoppes. When you feel adrift this week, I want you to walk it. Don't solve anything. Just count the number of different leaves you see. That’s your homework."

Nora almost laughed. Leaves? She had come here for psychiatry, for brain chemistry, for a diagnosis. She’d expected a prescription pad. Instead, she got leaves.

Today was different. Today, the thing she was running from—a tidal wave of grief over her father’s sudden passing—had finally caught up. She couldn’t outdrive it.

Driving home, the rain had softened to a drizzle. She didn't turn on the radio. She thought about leaves. She thought about her father's hands—calloused from working on his old truck. And for the first time, the grief didn't feel like drowning.

That night, she didn't spiral. She wrote down three things she remembered about her dad. And in the morning, she drove back to Towne Lake Parkway—not to cancel, but to show up.

After ten minutes, she choked out, "I think I'm broken."

Her counselor, Dr. Ramesh, was already there. He wasn't scribbling on a notepad or staring at a clock. He was just sitting, calmly, as if he had all the time in the world.

Thriveworks Counseling & Psychiatry Woodstock -

thriveworks counseling & psychiatry woodstock

Thriveworks Counseling & Psychiatry Woodstock -

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Thriveworks Counseling & Psychiatry Woodstock -

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