Chapter 10 Heal Me
MY THERAPIST’S OFFICE is the most colorful room I have ever been in.
There are pictures of rainbows and multicolored landscapes, and the walls are painted in two different shades of blue.
I don’t know if it’s supposed to be therapeutic, but it works for me.
I also really like the paintings he has displayed, which were done using a unique layering process.
This office is familiar to me and has become another safe space.
Dr. Brant, or Dr. B., as he likes to be called, is a tall, white-haired, balding man with round glasses and an almost permanent reassuring smile. “Klara,” he says, bowing jokingly to greet me.
I have paraded through a lot of therapists’ offices for close to two years, ever since my mother died, but Dr. B.
is my favorite by far and has been my therapist for the past eight months.
He makes me feel like I’m not a patient, just someone talking to a friend.
He’s helped me out so much, and has managed to take my agoraphobia from severe to almost moderate.
“Dr. B.,” I say, returning the bow. We sit with his desk between us, facing each other.
“You’re looking well, Klara. I’m glad.”
“Yes, and I came here alone today.”
Agoraphobia has robbed me of so many things, mainly my independence.
The constant fear of what might happen to me if I go out alone has limited me greatly.
Getting to this point has been a gradual process, another part of my exposure therapy.
And since I’ll be attending an in-person class in two weeks, I decided to come here by myself, push myself further.
Even if this office is a safe space for me, getting in an Uber and sitting inside a car with an unfamiliar driver is not, and that part was terrifying.
Coming to my appointment on my own feels like a huge victory.
“That’s incredible.” He gives me a thumbs-up. “And you’re eating better, too, I can tell; that’s important when you’re on medication.”
I nod. “I know.”
“Have you been doing your breathing exercises?”
“Yes. I practiced them today on my way here.”
“Good. Have you been keeping busy with activities?”
I nod again. “Yes, and I haven’t had any panic attacks, even when I’ve done things outside my comfort zone. I’ve been staying outside at the park a little more, joining Kamila on small errands every now and then.”
“That’s excellent news, Klara. But you should still keep doing your breathing exercises in case you do experience a panic attack.
Even if it happens, it does not cancel out all your progress up to now.
You may experience a few more panic attacks before you say goodbye to them forever, or you may never have one again; only time will tell. ”
“I know.”
“You also know why you’re here. You’re starting a new chapter of your life—going to college. How do you feel?”
“Very scared.”
“And what are you scared of?”
“Everything: being around so many people, having a panic attack in front of everyone, being stared at, being criticized, being made fun of…”
He places both elbows on the desk and leans forward. “What will happen if people stare at you? Will you die?”
I shake my head as I voice my response. “No.”
“What if they criticize you or make fun of you?”
I sigh. “Nothing.”
“Exactly. Yes, you are going to feel uncomfortable, you might even feel bad, but the reality is that looks and words can’t hurt you physically, Klara.
And that’s your biggest fear, physical harm, dying.
Does this concern with people teasing you come from a fear that, for example, you might stop breathing and no one will help you? ”
“Yes.”
“Why would you stop breathing, Klara? Do you have a lung disease?”
“No.”
“Pneumonia? A bad flu, by chance?”
I shake my head.
“So why would a young woman with a healthy pair of lungs suddenly stop breathing?”
Another sigh. “I don’t know, they’re just thoughts that come to me.”
“And what have we said about those kinds of thoughts?”
“They are not facts, they are beliefs rooted in fear,” I say, taking a deep breath.
“Where is the evidence to back up this belief that you will suddenly stop breathing?” he points out.
“There’s none.”
“Exactly. You want to know some facts? You’re a young and healthy lady who doesn’t even have a cold. You will not spontaneously stop breathing; that’s not how our amazing human bodies work. They don’t shut down out of nowhere.”
“Do you really believe that?” My voice is filled with hope.
“Oh, I do, and my belief is not based on fear, it’s based on evidence. Now, where does this belief that you will stop breathing come from? Any ideas? Have you ever experienced any kind of shortness of breath? Or seen something like that?”
I take a moment to process and think about what he’s saying, and I bite my nails for a second.
“I…” A pause. “It’s just…” Another pause. He doesn’t say anything, nor does he pressure me to continue. He just waits for me, and then it dawns on me. “My mother,” is all I say.
He nods. “Your mother?”
The sight of her holding her chest, not being able to breathe before she died comes back to haunt me. “She couldn’t breathe—she clutched her chest, and then she died.” My voice breaks a little.
His gaze softens. “I’m so sorry you had to witness that, Klara.” He hands me a tissue as silent tears roll down my cheeks. “What’s the emotion overwhelming you right now?”
“Sadness and despair,” I admit, sobbing now.
“Because you couldn’t do anything for her at that moment?”
“Yes, I just watched and screamed for my sister.” The shame that statement ignites in me brings out more tears.
“It was out of your control.” His voice is softer, compassionate.
“I should have done something, been faster, I don’t know.” I wipe my tears with the tissue.
“And you think that would have changed anything?” His question stings a little.
“Maybe.”
“Do you really believe that?” he asks, and I don’t answer.
“Klara, your mother was very sick. She was at the end of her life, and from what you have said before, she was ready to rest. She had a beautiful conversation with you to make sure this wouldn’t happen: the blaming, the guilt, the should haves.
No matter what you did or think you should have done, she was still going to die. You couldn’t control that.”
“I know,” I say, sniffling.
“This breakthrough is really important because now we know where this belief is coming from, and I want you to hear these following words and internalize them as much as possible: You are not your mother.”
I stop breathing. Words have power, I learned that through therapy, and certain statements hit harder than others, like this one.
“I am not my mother,” I voice softly.
“You went through some of the same pains, but you are not her. You’re here with no medical reason to stop breathing.”
Finding out the root of some of my fears is painful, but a relief comes after it, because the chaos and fear-based scenarios in my head lose strength. Knowing the root of them makes them less scary and more reasonable. Dr. B. and I discuss that belief before coming to the end of the session.
“Do you really think I’m ready to go to college, Dr. B.?”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know. Maybe…?”
“Klara, the first day will be hard. I’m not going to lie to you. But it will get easier as time goes by, and eventually you won’t even remember the fear.”
“Do you really think so? Do you think I can have a normal life?”
“Of course. Did you think this would last forever? You went through something very scary and stressful that most women your age never have to face, but you’re working through it and you’re starting to heal. Nothing lasts forever.”
My heart fills with hope, but I’m still a little worried. “What if I have a panic attack in the middle of class?”
“If it’s something that can’t be avoided, you just have to wait for it to pass. You know it will pass.”
“I don’t want to make a scene,” I say.
“Well, if you feel a panic attack coming, go to a private place where you can do your breathing exercises to ride it out. I know it feels scary to be alone during one, but you know what it is, and you know that it will pass. I want you to focus on that part, and I want you to focus on your statements.”
“I am calm. I am safe. I am protected.”
“Yes, you are, Klara.” He smiles at me, and I return it.
Mr. B. gives me more tips for my first day, and then my session is over and I bid him farewell.
I feel more relaxed about how to handle starting community college and more hopeful that everything will go well.
I need everything to go well. Starting college is the first step to regaining control of my life and getting back on the road to normalcy.