I showed up at my psychiatrist’s office—the inner sanctum, if you will—and dropped like lead onto the sofa, sighing deeply. My sighs were not sarcastic—sighs had become my words. You know how Romans 8:26 says that the Holy Spirit interprets even our moans and our groans? My sighs were too deep for words. I hoped God was getting my message.
The sunlight shone on the terraced porch outside Dr. Shayna Lee’s windows. The office was a cottage in the Third Ward area of Houston. It was soothing, quaint, and homey yet functional. It had charts showing the brain—the flow of the nervous system—and personal mementos that made me realize that outside of her work, she too had a life. Somehow that was comforting.