Dr. S
NOT IN SESSION
Episode 02:
For the first time after waking from the nightmares, she smiled. The expression felt unfamiliar against the exhaustion beneath it.
The storm was gone.
The sleeplessness remained.
Silence Nguyen.
This was the name chosen to present to the world. It had become the precursor to her professional moniker before her rise to fame, following the amicable end of a 13-year relationship. The name was a shield; a beacon of credibility forged through pain she had carefully concealed behind a façade of perfection. Silence had earned her place in the spotlight after enduring so much, her life chronicled in articles, and her strength celebrated in the awards she had begun to collect. She had shared many stories, bearing her trauma to the world, and even shortened her name, making her known as Dr. S. to the community she served. Each one marked her significance.
As Dr. S, the world-renowned therapist, a former petty officer in the United States Navy, and a fierce advocate for mental health education among African American men and women, she dedicated her life’s work to raising awareness about the silent psychological struggles often hidden within Black communities, fighting to ensure that mental health wasn’t something that remained in the shadows or was improperly classified publicly. Her accolades were endless, her impact undeniable, but Dr. S. remained grounded, always drawing from her own experiences to guide others through their darkest moments.
Every morning, her waiting room brimmed with patients, eager for her insight. Yet, no matter how busy her day was ahead, she never strayed from her morning routine. A grounding ritual of prayer and exercise that had been instilled in her from a young age and carried through adulthood. These ritual moments had shaped her, changed her views, and instilled a dedication to help others navigate the treacherous waters of trauma and mental health. Despite some medical challenges she had faced her entire adult life- severe anemia and recurring fibroids preventing her from having children of her own- she found joy in small triumphs. This was the essence of Silence. The community’s Dr. S.
As the first rays of sunrise crept through the blinds, Dr. S. slipped out of her pre-warmed, king-sized bed, free of the night’s storm. She dressed in her workout gear, laced up her tennis shoes, and eased herself onto the floor to stretch, her muscles still stiff from sleep. Her shoulder protested more than usual as the strain of insomnia made its presence at every bend.
After twenty minutes of focused stretching and shaking off the remnants of an unconscious memory, she descended the stairs to be greeted by her pets: two lovebirds, Romeo and Juliet, and her loyal Rottweiler, Story, who was anxiously awaiting her time outside. Her leash hung from its hook near the kitchen, and with a weary anticipation, Dr. S. grabbed it, along with two bottles of water: one for Story and one for herself. Together, walked out to the backyard and prepared for their morning run with an essential morning meditation. She sat down beside Story in the dewy, cool morning grass and closed her eyes, letting the calm seep in as she pulled out her phone.
In a gentle tone, Siri's voice echoed in her AirPods,
“Good morning, Silence. Would you like me to present today’s schedule?”
“Yes,” she replied softly.
“You have thirteen appointments today, starting at 10 AM,” Siri listed, each word slowly fading into the background as Dr. S. slipped deeper into her thoughts.
Thirteen appointments.
Thirteen stories.
The first day of a full week of thirteen appointment days.
Sixty-five, total.
And somewhere among them are the first participants for Saturday's pilot group.
The thoughts followed her like a second schedule as she continued to clear her mind before her run.
“The restless actions in an endless prayer,
Contain the recycled loop of words I can’t share.
Whispers of conversations filled the air,
The weight of my past to dream lessens what I bear.
Repeating steps to redo each thought with care,
A fear of chaos always lies prevalent there.
Releasing a fleeting hope that is a distant stare,
Continuing to blink and pierce the persistent glare.
Breathe in and breathe out as I continue to dare,
Silencing the shouts of uncertainty and compulsion as the world’s fair.”
Once Silence’s thoughts stopped, Siri finished speaking, and Story finished drinking. She picked up the leash from the damp grass by where she had been sitting, giving her a gentle pat before leading her to the front yard. Story was used to this routine with Dr. S. It was also the official start of her day.
The morning sun rose over the gated neighborhood where she had lived for nearly a decade. They stepped through the iron gate and walked to the sidewalk in front of her manicured rose bushes and trimmed lawn. She had always prepared for her day with the same ritual, the same three-mile route she had run with Story for the past nine years. The path was familiar, with the same faces she greeted along the way as the cool breeze met her stride. The lack of sleep sat behind her eyes, disguised as she graciously smiled and waved to each of her early-rising neighbors, exchanging brief but warm pleasantries.
At the corner, she stopped, feeling last night’s exhaustion creeping into her routine. Luckily, this corner had been the same spot she always stopped to share a quick spiritual word with the retired chaplain who served as the neighborhood's unofficial security guard.
“Blessed day, Dr. S!” he'd call out, his voice carrying over the quiet street. She smiled and offered him a peaceful nod before jogging over.
“It’s a blessed day for another run, Sir.” Silence responded, indulging him shortly before resuming her run.
Along the way, she paused only at the usual spots where Story took her breaks. This was more than just exercise; it was a time of reflection, a way to reconnect with the discipline she'd honed during her time in the Navy. As she ran, memories of singing Anchors Aweigh stayed with her; fellow officers came to her mind, helping to distract her from any physical discomfort as she focused on her breathing.
Upon her return home and cooldown with Story, she stood and admired her house, which she had recently redecorated. Every corner of the house was a testament to her personal journey. She led Story inside the front door, back into the living room, which was filled with shades of deep blue and stormy gray colors… colors that represented the trauma she had overcome. Her surroundings seemed to fit her life’s work and Story’s calmness.
Silence headed straight upstairs for the shower to let the hot water wash away her exertion. Story stayed downstairs and settled back into her designated space, content with her meal, water, and bed. Nestled in front of the living room’s shaded bay window, between two potted plants, Story laid down to rest while the programmed podcast began to play to comfort her.
Ten minutes later, emerging from the steamy bathroom, Dr. S turned on her favorite playlist: old-school jams that always got her into the right mindset. As Whitney Houston’s “I’m Every Woman” played from the speakers, she danced her way around her walk-in closet, feeling a sense of freedom and lightness.
“Today feels like an orange kind of day,” she whispered to herself, reaching for a striking cantaloupe colored dress and a burnt orange blazer, complete with matching gold and orange stiletto heels. It was something about the brightness and citrus look of the outfit that just spoke to her.
After laying the outfit out on the chair next to her bed, she sat at her vanity to apply her makeup and style her hair. Her concealer worked harder than normal. Her morning routine was so well practiced that she moved through it with ease, a graceful flow from one task to the next despite a decline in energy.
Forty minutes later, she called out to Siri to stop the music before heading downstairs and grabbing her neatly organized files from the dining table. She tucked them into her leather shoulder bag and, with her purse and keys in hand, she headed for the front door, ready to begin the day.
After securing her home, she walked to her pristine, glimmering black hybrid Cadillac to begin her morning commute. The 20-minute drive to her office was always a relaxing time for her. As she navigated the familiar streets, her thoughts turned to the long path she had traveled to achieve her current success. The youngest of four, she had grown up watching her siblings carve out their paths, always feeling a quiet determination to make her mark. Though she had chosen her career over starting a family, it was a decision she never regretted, though she occasionally wondered, “What if?” The morning drive offered her a moment of solitude to imagine the road not traveled.
She stopped at her favorite coffee shop and pulled into the drive-thru, her order ready without hesitation: “One medium espresso with four pumps of caramel creamer, four pumps of French vanilla creamer, and three Splenda packets.” It was her signature drink, and the barista greeted her with a smile as he handed it over. With her coffee in hand, she took a sip before resuming her drive. The first sip felt less like comfort and more like necessity as she continued, passing schoolyards and parks. The scenery blended into the background as she gradually came to life with the familiar taste, mentally gearing up for another day of service while once again thinking quietly to herself.
“Routines rehearsed until it forms a perfect line,
Habit-breaking, no longer conforming to a sleek shine.
A world that sees order as a disease,
Viewed routines that have much detail will never ease.
Every moment of each day with each counted breath,
Shielded to conform to honor, courage, and commitment, while normalizing death.
A search for normalcy, a break from a broken life that was once known,
Waves of relevancy that time and service have grown.
Sailing separately to find a place in an ocean of fears that stretches wide,
Branded in perfection, one mission intact, one soul subsides.
Distress and haunts on life’s winding roll,
Leaving a comfortable surrounding of a rhythmic cadence of control.”
As her thoughts concluded, she arrived at the sleek, five-story office building where she practiced. Dr. S smiled warmly at the security guard and valet staff who greeted her by name. One of the valet attendants, Sam, always exchanged a few words with her. He was a young African American man with aspirations of becoming a psychologist. Sam had shared his academic journey with Dr. S, who frequently offered him guidance and encouragement.
“Good morning, Sam! How are those psychology classes coming along?” she asked, stepping out of her vehicle.
“Just fine, Dr. S. I haven’t read my latest chapters yet, but I’ll have more questions for you before the day is over,” Sam replied, grinning.
Neither had she finished her new book.
Not completely.
The manuscript sitting on her nightstand was still little more than scattered notes, unfinished thoughts, and a title she couldn't stop thinking about.
“I’ll hold you to it,” Dr. S teased as she walked toward the glass doors, the valet waving after her.
She entered the building and stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the fifth floor, which she had proudly purchased and designed to be a serene, welcoming space. Her office was a calm sanctuary, with soft gray furniture, tranquil fountains, scenic plants, and extensive nature murals that shifted every thirty minutes, providing a peaceful environment for patients. Aromatic candles filled the space, adding to the sense of warmth and healing as Dr. stepped off the elevator into the glass doors of her practice.
As she walked in, Dr. S was greeted by her lobby attendant and noticed that her first appointment of the day, a young woman, was already waiting.
“She’s early,” Dr. S thought as Stephanie, her assistant, approached with a chart in hand.
“She is here for her 10 AM,” Stephanie confirmed, handing over the file.
Sage Michaels.
Dr. S read and checked her watch.
“9:25 AM”
Sage was present and already waiting.
THE SESSION ISN’T OVER.
You’ve reached the end of your complimentary Not in Session episodes.
There are more women waiting to be seen beyond the labels.
The story continues for Storykeepers on November 1. CONTINUE EXPLORING THE UNIVERSE →
