4. Crimson
crimson
. . .
Today was different. I slowly but surely started to open up with my therapist. And although she’d been encouraging me to come in, I refused to.
But something shifted when I woke up this morning.
I felt compelled for the first time in a while to leave the loft on my own accord.
With help from Jahsir, I had my first in-person therapy session.
It was weird being in person after being virtual for so long.
So I sat with my legs crossed and my eyes fixated on a beautiful painting she had in her office.
Hadiya’s office smelled faintly of ylang-ylang and patchouli.
She also had a Japanese garden that calmly spilled water, adding to the relaxing ambiance.
The scent, the water, and the dimness of the room were all meant to calm my anxiety.
And while it helped some, I was still a ball of nerves.
Hadiya was more beautiful in person. She had warm, hazel eyes and sandy brown hair that matched her skin. She must have had a filter on our Zoom meetings because seeing her in person made me notice her tiny freckles. If nothing calmed me, her beauty and gentle spirit did.
“You made it. It's such a pleasure to meet you in person, Crimson.”
“Likewise. If I had known your office was this inviting, I would have come in a long time ago.”
“Well, you’re here now, so welcome. Is there anything in particular you’d like to discuss today?”
Every time she asked me that, my brain was swarmed with thousands of intrusive thoughts, fears, and replays of what happened.
So, I said nothing because I was stuck. I felt myself in a constant loop of trying to figure out which issue was most important to address.
After about two minutes of silence, Hadiya finally spoke up.
"Crimson, you mentioned during our last session that you feel responsible for what happened to the new girl you were training. Are you still having those same thoughts?"
I clasped my hands together and interlocked my fingers. My thumbs swirled in an ongoing circle. That was one of the many habits I’d picked up after the robbery. Since I could physically feel and see my fingers looping around each other, I felt in control and was able to focus my thoughts more.
“I keep thinking if I’d brought her into my office to go over some policies or something, that maybe she wouldn’t have gotten shot.
I also fe-” I choked up. “I feel that maybe they really wanted to shoot me. I don’t know.
” My voice cracked and I trailed off a little.
Hadiya was good at not bombarding me with questions.
She listened, took notes, and gave me space to speak freely.
“I feel so bad, because I was annoyed that day since I had to train her. I was trying to rush and cram everything at one time so I could have a more laid-back afternoon. I just wanted to get to the evening that Jah had planned for me. I rushed for no reason, because we never got to our romantic getaway. And now she’s dead. ”
I repositioned myself on the couch as the room seemed to have warmed up a bit. I took a sip of water and closed my eyes as it went down my throat. Stop it, Crim, Stop . I told myself as a flashback of blood splattering on my face bombarded my thoughts.
“Is it happening again?”
“Yes.”
“What did we talk about?” Hadiya asked. I knew she was referring to grounding techniques.
She told me that whenever I become overwhelmed with unwanted thoughts, I should practice grounding techniques.
Silently, I went through the steps of the Body Awareness one.
In about two minutes, my thoughts disappeared, and I was able to refocus.
“Better?” She asked.
“Yes. Thank you for the reminder. So, what it all comes back to is regret, or maybe guilt. I don’t know at this point.” I sighed.
Hadiya nodded slowly. “It’s normal to feel regret or guilt when something like this happens.
Your mind is being flooded with the ‘what ifs’ and ‘I should haves’.
But Crimson, do you realize you are holding yourself responsible for others’ actions?
If you had taken the training at a slower pace that day, then what? ”
“I - Or, or maybe she would-”
“Hold it there, Crimson. If you had taken the training slower, where would you all have been?”
“I can’t say, probably still in the bank for sure.”
“That's my point. Changing how you trained her does not change the actions of the robbers. You all would have still been inside the bank during the robbery.” Hadiya leaned forward slightly; her eyes were empathetic, but her voice came across firmly. “You’ve got to stop carrying the weight and responsibility of others. And, quite honestly, Crimson, that seems to be the theme in your life. You feel responsible for your mother dying, Quincy being a terrible father, and-”
“I just don’t know how to stop.” I sighed.
“Seems like when I make decisions to have my needs met, someone else gets hurt. The new trainee at the bank, and even Scarlett.” I burst into tears thinking about Scarlett.
“Quincy wants nothing to do with her. If I would have died, she’d be alone.
I-” Choking up, I coughed as the tears cascaded down my cheeks and my saliva got caught in my throat.
“What if she grows up feeling as lonely as I did and feeling unloved?” I was in a full-blown crying catastrophe at this point.
Hadiya leaned forward and handed me a box of tissues.
I saw it in her eyes. She was doing her best not to break out in tears herself.
I watched as she physically gathered herself, and then she spoke.
“Or what if it works out? What if you live a long, healthy life? What if you get the love, you always wanted? What if Scarlett has brothers and sisters and looks at her mother as the hero she is?”
I sobbed as Hadiya painted the life I dreamed of.
“It’s natural to want the best for your child and to want to stick around as long as possible to give them that.
But you have to allow time for that to happen, Crimson.
Scarlett needs you, yes, but she also needs you to be well. She needs you to heal.”
“Don’t you think I want to heal Hadiya?!
” My tone was elevated. I was frustrated not with her, but with myself.
“I don’t mean to yell. I just…I want to be better.
I want to heal, and I want to be who I was before all of this.
I’m tired of being some broken thing that needs fixing.
I feel so pathetic. So, I need to get back to the old me. It's a must!”
Hadiya remained quiet, allowing me more space. But I said nothing. She fidgeted with her pen. Something I noticed she did whenever she was about to say something controversial. Then, in a soft, reassuring tone, she said,
“What if I told you that you’d never be the same person you were?
You suffered the loss of your mom as a teen.
You’ve experienced heartbreak and abandonment.
You then became a mother. And now you have experienced a very traumatic event.
Each of those events chipped away at the old Crimson.
So, you will never be who you were before.
And guess what, you don’t need to be. Each experience shaped you and taught you something, and that, Crimson, is what we call healing.
It's not about being who you once were; it's about learning to love the new you. Is it scary and uncomfortable? Absolutely. But you know what it really is? Growth.”
The impact of her words released the weight that I’d been carrying around since I was 16.
Honestly, I hadn’t felt the same since my mother died.
I blamed myself for her drug overdose because I gave her money knowing she’d get high with it.
The loss of her left me hollow. And my fear of parenting Scarlett had more to do with my capability as a mother than it did with Quincy’s lack of involvement.
For the first time in weeks, I felt something shift.
I didn’t have all the answers. I didn’t know how my life would turn out.
But I knew I’d be okay. And in this moment, that was more than enough for me.
“You’re saying I need to give myself grace and accept who I am?”
“I’m saying rediscover Crimson. Find out what she likes, loves, and who she is TODAY. And when you do that, reintroduce yourself to Scarlett. She’ll appreciate every version of you, as long as you present it with love.
“Hadiya, thank you.”