The Hitting Zone-Chapter 74 A Child Psychologis

If audio player doesn't work, press Reset or reload the page.
Chapter 74 A Child Psychologis

Noah was accurate in his prediction of me not being able to participate in batting practice. On Tuesday and Wednesday, I continued my endurance and speed training with Drew, during that time. Then afterwards I would join the team for situational plays and try to ingrain coach's words into my brain. Wednesday evening quickly approached and I left as soon as Mr. Atkins showed up to practice. I noticed Chris and Roberts, the original second baseman, glaring at me as I left, but no words were said.


Mr. Atkins took me directly to the therapist, not even letting me shower. We walked into a quiet looking building that simply said 'Behavioral Center.' No one was in the waiting room as the receptionist greeted us. Mr. Atkins filled out some papers as I sat in one of the many available chairs.


The place had magazines and toys spread out across a coffee table, but none really grabbed my attention. I patiently waited for Mr. Atkins to finish the paperwork and kept my eye on the receptionist. She kept sneaking looks at me, making me feel unsettled.


Mr. Atkins came to sit next to me after doing the paperwork. He gave me a tight smile. "Doing okay?" I shrugged in response. "For the first meeting, I think he'll let me be in the room with you. If that's okay with you?"


I nodded. Definitely. I didn't want to be alone with a total stranger. At least Mr. Atkins was an acquaintance.


We waited in silence as the receptionist entered the paperwork. After ten to fifteen minutes, she asked us to go on in. Mr. Atkins led the way and ducked through the doorway leading to the therapists office.


"You must be Wayne Atkins? I'm Dr. Elijah Moore." I heard a voice from the other side of Mr. Atkins. He finished stepping through the door and revealed a thin man in glasses. They were shaking hands and exchanging greetings.


"And you must be Jake Hollander." The thin man pushed up his glasses and held out a hand for me to shake. I stared at it, feeling awkward and wondered if it was too soon to leave.


"Jake doesn't really liked to be touched." Mr. Atkins explained.


"Oh well. No matter. A lot of the kids I get are similar in that aspect. Please, take a seat." He gestured to the couches in his office, before heading behind his desk. He sat down in his chair and I took note of the plaque on his desk: Elijah T. Moore, PhD. Child Psychologist.


I waited for Mr. Atkins to sit, then found a spot on the other side of the couch. I angled myself to make sure I had both men in my vision. Not that I think anything would happen, but it doesn't hurt to have a plan.


Dr. Moore was already scribbling on his notepad. "So Jake, do you understand why you're here?"


I gave a nod of the head. They thought I was crazy for not talking. I think I might be too much like my mother. I remembered my explosion at the boys just this past Sunday.


"Can you tell me what you understand?" He asked, making eye contact.


I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable with how penetrating his gaze felt.


"Jake doesn't talk very much." Mr. Atkins cut in. He frowned. "Did you look over his file beforehand?"


Dr. Moore nodded and faced Mr. Atkins. "Yes, I did. But for preliminary meetings, I like to gather my own opinions on where I think Jake is at. The last doctor he saw was a psychiatrist which is fundamentally different then what I am."


"What's the difference, if you don't mind me asking?" Mr. Atkins glanced at me. "I would like to make sure Jake knows what's going on before you go any further."


Dr. Moore turned back to me. "Do you know what the difference is between me and your last therapist is, Jake?"


I shook my head no.


Dr. Moore gave me a smile. "That's okay. Let's start with your last therapist. He was a psychiatrist. That means he's a trained medical doctor, who can prescribe medication to treat a mental health problem. I'm a psychologist, who focus on treating emotional and mental suffering in patients with behavioral intervention. For example, he had prescribed Zoloft to treat your anxiety. As for me, I would like to get to the root of the problem to find out why you're so anxious. It's common for our two professions to work together to treat a patient since we share the same goal: to make you feel better."


"Jake is no longer on any medication since he left the hospital and rehab center." Mr. Atkins intervened. "Should we also be consulting a psychiatrist?"


"I would like to start without any medication assistance just to see if it's something he can face on his own. I'm not saying that's a bad idea, I just don't recommend putting children on prescriptions where they then become dependent on them." Dr. Moore explained.


Mr. Atkins looked at me. "Want to try this out first?"


I shrugged. It didn't feel as intimidating as before when I was trapped in a hospital bed. And it was reassuring to know that he won't be diagnosing me as crazy and putting me on meds that make me tired.


Mr. Atkins visibly relaxed at my shrug. "Okay, you guys can continue. I'll try and interrupt less."