Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
E MILY
Five days after the big fire downtown, I sit in the waiting room of my therapist’s office waiting for my appointment. Thank God, Jack was able to come off the life support yesterday and may go home soon. When I pulled up to the ER and let Shayna out of the car the day of the fire, I was literally shaking.
Flashbacks of being there when Teddy died, less than two months ago, flew at me the closer she and I got to the hospital. By the time I dropped her off, the anxiety and memories had nearly paralyzed me.
Then, I saw him.
Charlie, always the epitome of strength and togetherness, was sitting on the ground, his head down and his chest heaving with rapid breaths.
I shudder remembering it. I’ve known Charlie for nine years and I’ve never seen him like that.
“Emily? Are you ready?” Annette, my therapist, asks, standing in the door leading down the hall to her office.
I nod as I stand and follow her.
After exchanging a few pleasantries, we dive right in.
“So, the message you left yesterday said you wanted to learn some skills to cope with the trauma you’ve experienced. Is that still what you want to focus on today?
I nod and tell her about the fire, and needing to drop Shayna off at the hospital since Jack was involved.
“The intensity of how everything felt as we neared the hospital and flashbacks of that day, it was… suffocating. Elladine is a small town, and I have a lot of wonderful memories that pop up, even at home. But flashbacks—upsetting ones—also hit me at random places, and I don’t think I can work on the other areas I need to heal in until I can manage my responses to the memories. I’ve lived here a long time, so a memory, good or bad, can be sparked almost anywhere.”
Annette nods. “I think that’s very insightful of you.” She clears her throat and puts down her clipboard on her cluttered desk. “For today, I thought we could work on tactics for how you can acutely handle the triggering memories when they come. Then, in future sessions, we’ll tackle some of the negative self-beliefs that your trauma has created. Are you ready?”
“Negative self-beliefs? From Teddy dying? I’m not sure I have any of those.”
Annette looks at me for several long seconds before speaking again.
“We’ve been seeing each other for a little over a month now. You’ve shared a lot with me about your relationship with your parents and about things that happened over the course of your relationship with Teddy that had a significant effect on you. Things that were also traumatic—though admittedly not as intense as his dying. Do you agree?”
I pause, recollections of ways both my parents and Teddy hurt me wash over me and tears suddenly fill my eyes then trickle down my cheeks.
Annette says nothing, just slides me a box of tissues.
I sniffle. “Sure, those things hurt, sometimes a lot, but everyone goes through things like that.”
“True, lots of people’s parents fail them, and partners are unfaithful sometimes, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t been traumatic for you, that it hasn’t affected you. And it’s okay to invest in yourself and do the work to deal with how those traumas have impacted you.”
I look down at my hands, not able to meet her gaze.
My next words come out as a whisper. “Even if it’s my fault? If I set myself up for being hurt repeatedly?”
“Tell me more about that.” Her voice is kind, oozing with patience.
“Wh-what do you mean?” I ask, still crying.
“How is it your fault that other people hurt you?”
I shrug my shoulders and wish I hadn’t brought it up. I try not answering, but Annette has mastered the art of silence. And I learned early in our sessions that she can wait me out.
I sigh.
“Because. I can’t trust my judgment. Look at my track record. I never learned to stop hoping that things would be different with my parents, right up to the moment I stood in my wedding dress believing that my mom and dad would show up for me because they said they would. Spoiler alert, they didn’t.”
She says nothing and I take a deep breath, rage filling my veins. At who? I’m not really sure. But the floodgate is open, and a tsunami of emotions is barreling toward me with a fury.
Fine, Annette, you want me to talk? I’ll talk!
“And Teddy. Jesus, he had a good heart, and he loved me. I know he did. But how many times did he have to hurt me over the years for me to learn my lesson? I fucking lost myself to that man and for what? I loved him, but I let his needs and his energy shroud me until I got to the point I don’t even know myself anymore. So, yeah, I can’t trust myself because I’m twenty-seven years old and my life is a damn mess since I’ve chosen wrong over and over again.” I stare at her, expecting a reaction at my outburst, but she just watches me pensively, her head tilted. “Say something!”
Annette smiles sadly and turns her chair slightly until she can reach her small filing cabinet. The metal drawer screeches as she pulls it open. She searches through the files and pulls a single piece of paper from it.
Great. She’s probably firing me as a patient for my raging and now I’ll have to start over with another therapist.
When she turns back to me, she hands me the white paper.
I swallow the lump in my throat and look down at it. It reads, “Negative core beliefs.”
“Emily, can you read the fifth statement in the negative beliefs column out loud for me?”
I glance down at the paper and stare at it, unable to speak for a moment. A fat tear escapes my right eye and plops onto it, creating a halo of moisture against the crisp white background.
I clear my throat, but my voice is still shaking when I read, “I can’t trust myself.” I continue to stare at the words, realization dawning on me. I’m not the only person who has ever felt this way, and perhaps, just maybe, there is hope that I can find that confident, fun-loving woman I occasionally remember. Perhaps I can learn to trust myself again.
“It’s not just me.” A statement—not a question. My voice is so soft that I’m not sure she can even hear me.
But she does. “No. It’s not just you. Believing that you can’t trust yourself is a common negative self-belief in people who have suffered trauma in their pasts.”
I glance up at her and nod.
Annette smiles at me and it radiates empathy and kindness. “I can see that was a lot for you. Do you feel up to learning some techniques to handle the triggering memories when they occur?”
“Yes,” I answer, my voice sounding surer than I feel.
“Okay. Let’s get started. The first tool we are going to use is identifying a place where you can go, in your mind, when a memory triggers you. A place that makes you feel positive things, maybe peaceful. It can be somewhere you’ve been or somewhere you imagine. So, close your eyes and I want you to think about that place and observe it for a minute or two, then I’ll guide you on defining it a bit more.”
I close my eyes and do as she says. She waits in silence while I envision one of my favorite places.
“Now tell me about your place. Describe it to me and, if you can, use your senses.”
“Well, it’s the ocean. In Hawaii. My sister took me there as a delayed college graduation gift and I’ve never seen water so clear or beautiful. I’m floating on my back in the water. It feels cool—refreshing—on my skin, but not cold. And I feel weightless when I float. I love how that feels.”
“Do you see anything?”
“If I keep my eyes open, I see the clear blue sky. But I like to keep my eyes closed. And I can do that because Trina worries I’ll lose myself and float too far out, so she always swims by me, either watching or holding onto my ankle so I know she’s there.”
“That’s nice. How did that make you feel when she did that in the past?”
“Safe. Protected. Grounded—especially when she held onto my ankle. I could let go of everything on my mind because she had me. She’d stand near me and just lightly hold on to my ankle, so she’d feel if I started to float away.” The words, the sensation of not needing to worry, because she was my sentry, are immediately present in the memory.
“Are there any smells or sounds there?”
I pause, paying attention to how I’m feeling as I visualize being in the water.
“The air smells fresh, but there are very few sounds. Just some tinkling. That’s one reason I like it. My ears are under water, and it blocks out most of the noise. It’s… serene.”
“That sounds lovely, Emily. When you’re ready, you can open your eyes.”
I take a few deep breaths, enjoying the special place a little longer, then lift my eyelids.
“That was excellent. Do you see how you can try to visualize yourself back into the water, focusing on all the sensations when a painful memory comes to you?”
I smile. “I do. And I forgot how much I enjoy being in the water. Thanks for helping me remember that.”
“You did all the work. I just helped you see what was already there.” Annette pauses and looks down at her watch. “We have about ten more minutes. Would you like to hear about the second technique? Or do you want to stop here for today?”
Excited that I feel something good, something enjoyable, for the first time in a while, I’m eager to continue.
“I’d like to hear about the next one.”
“Great. The second technique involves creating what we call a ‘resource team’ of individuals, or pets even, who have been a positive force in your life. It can be as many or as few people as you want. Take a few seconds and think of some people, and then we?—”
“I don’t need a few seconds. I already know who would be on my resource team. The first would be my sister Trina, then my best friend Shayna, and my… my friend Charlie.”
Annette nods at me and smiles. “It’s great that you can think of three people that quickly. Is there anyone else you would add?”
I simply shake my head. These are the people who have been there for me since they’ve come into my life.
“Okay. Now that we know who’s on your team, let’s start with your sister. Think about why you put her on your team, what she represents to you, what she makes you feel, and describe that to me. If you can, tell me about the others as well.”
“Well, Trina is easy. She’s always protected me, made me feel loved, and made me believe I could do anything I wanted to and put my mind to. Shayna has been my best friend since almost the first day I met her. She represents someone I can always be myself around. Someone who I know has my back and will tell me the truth, even if I don’t want to hear it. I think everybody needs someone like that in their lives. The other thing about Shay is that I know that no matter what I do, she’ll never stop loving me.”
“So, Trina represents protection, unconditional love, and believing in yourself. And Shayna represents honesty, being able to be yourself, and unconditional love. Correct?” Annette asks.
I nod.
I hesitate when it comes time to talk to her about Charlie, having never openly told anyone about what he represents to me. Unwilling to meet her gaze, I glance around her office. Sure, it’s like a typical therapist office with her degrees posted on the wall, but she also has a few plants scattered around, piles of books, and several knickknack type owl themed decorations. I consider trying to distract her by asking about the owls, but I know that just like she has mastered the art of silence, she also very much knows when I’m trying to change the subject.
I sigh I and turn my eyes back to Annette.
“Charlie represents some obvious things to me. Ever since I met him, he’s called me “sunshine.” And I know it’s probably weird, but I feel brighter when I’m around him, lighter. And the thing is, I think I’m a nice person, but I can be stubborn, and I have a temper. But around Charlie, I don’t have to pretend, and he still sees the best in me—sees me . The other thing is that he’s always there to help me when I get in a tough situation. I feel safe with him, and I feel bright with him…” I stop speaking and roll my eyes. “That’s stupid. What does feeling “bright” even mean?”
Annette just stares at me over the rim of her turquoise glasses.
I shrug. “What? That’s it.”
Annette lifts her eyebrows and asks, “Is it?”
Jesus, does this woman have a sixth sense or what?
I drop my eyes to my lap, not sure what she’ll think of me if I tell her the rest. “I don’t know if this really matters for him being on my resource team, so I probably don’t need to tell you about it. Plus, you’ll probably think less of me for it.”
“I will not,” she says, matter-of-factly. Her affect is neutral, almost flat.
“Well, I sort of had a crush on Charlie when I was younger. Even when I was with Teddy. It wasn’t anything serious, but I would be lying if I said that there was never a time I wondered what it would be like to be in a relationship with Charlie. He’s so honorable and protective and… steady. Plus, he’s very easy on the eyes”—I chuckle, trying to lighten the mood—“so there’s that, too. I’m nowhere near ready to consider getting back out there, obviously, and as much as he hurt me with his actions, I loved Teddy. But knowing Charlie and the kind of man he is gives me hope that maybe there’s someone out there who could love me again, make me feel safe enough to give love another chance someday. Someone I could let myself trust. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life never trusting another man because of what happened with Teddy. But I think it would have to be a man like Charlie for me to trust again, to love.”
“Emily, there’s nothing you said there that would even remotely make me think less of you. And you don’t need to feel bad for having any of those feelings. It doesn’t mean that you didn’t love your husband. It’s actually a good sign because it means you’re not entirely closed off to the possibility of loving again. And there’s no timeline for this. You’ll know when it’s the right time and the right person.”
I look up at her, tears stinging my eyes. “But will I know when it’s the right person? I trusted myself for that before and look what happened.”
Annette nods. “You will. Because we are going to work on that negative core belief you have, the one you just inadvertently voiced—that you can’t trust your own judgment—and through that work, we’re going to get you to a place where you believe in your ability to make positive choices. Where you know that other people’s shortcomings or issues are not your responsibility or your fault.”
I swipe at the tears streaming down my cheeks and sniffle, managing to only squeak out a simple, “Okay.”
“I think that we’ll save the third strategy for the next session. For this week, I’d like you to practice going to your peaceful place in your mind, or imagining whoever you need from your resource team anytime a difficult memory assaults you. If you just need to change your focus, close your eyes and imagine yourself in the water, thinking about how it affects each of your senses. If you need to feel loved, or safe, or bright, imagine yourself with your resource team and how you feel when you’re with them. Do you think you can do that?”
I nod. “I-I think so. I’ll try.”
When I step outside after my appointment with Annette, a cool autumn breeze hits my face and the earthy, almost musky scent of the fallen leaves fills the air around me. At my car, I stop before opening the door. Then, I close my eyes and inhale deeply, loving the sensation of the fresh air on my face and the smells of fall. I smile, genuine hope filling me for the first time in weeks. Hope that maybe my work with Annette will be like the seasons. I’ll shed the old “leaves” of the hard events or relationships in my life, and I’ll have to do the work to get through the winter of my grief, but from that, new life can spring forth followed by days of warmth and sunshine.
And my heart swells with happiness when I think of sunshine, because it reminds me of Charlie, and his sweet nickname for me.