“But I hate being in hospitals. I hate the smell of the antiseptic. The lighting gives me headaches, and my shoulders hurt because I can’t relax, because everything feels so—so dire. And every day, when I go home, I don’t even feel relieved, because I know I have to go back. And I . . . I keep waiting for it to change, for something to click and to feel how I thought it would, but it hasn’t. I get better at what I’m doing, but the way I feel about doing it doesn’t change.”
