9. Chapter Nine #3
“My goal is to keep our conversations short and sweet for most of these early sessions. I know a lot of words overwhelm you. That’s entirely normal and expected.
I have a tool that I think will help us save a lot of time and a lot of those unnecessary words.
” He sets what looks like a packet of papers down on the coffee table before adding, “You can pick it up to look at it whenever you’re ready, or just take it with you when you leave.
Or don’t take it at all, if you don’t want to try using it. Your choice, okay?”
I eye the packet as he settles back in his chair. I feel frozen, like I wouldn’t be able to grab it even if I wanted to.
I don’t know if I want to.
“I’ll skip the boring part about questionnaire’s being common therapy tools, but I will mention that this is a tool I chose not to use with any of your fellow survivors.
Mostly because their files have much more information than yours does, but also because processing words and communicating isn’t as difficult for them.
The only reason I mention that is because there will be times when I use tools with you that I won’t use with them, and vice versa.
Individualized therapy is different for everyone because every single person is different.
Do not let yourself worry about what your own therapy looks like compared to others, okay? ”
I nod, a little slowly, carefully.
“Besides, don’t tell them I told you this, but yours is going to end up being more fun than any of theirs, anyway.
I mean, they have to have long conversations with me.
” He pulls a face, which makes something light and fluttery happen in my chest. If I was normal, I think I would have laughed.
I do almost smile. “You, on the other hand, get packets and sign language, sure, but also activities and art projects.”
Activities? Art projects?
I’ve always liked art…
“What I’m saying is that you’re still one of them, even when your world looks a little different,” he continues.
“I don’t want you to let yourself feel badly about your differences.
I especially don’t want you to withdraw.
It is so easy to hide yourself away and build up walls when you’re struggling.
It's a natural instinct. It won’t help, though.
Your packet is only one tool in your recovery toolbox.
The survivors here, your friends, are another.
Let yourself lean on them. If you need to hide sometimes, if you need to shut down, go ahead - but don’t make it permanent.
Don’t cut yourself off from the support system you have here. Okay?”
I mean to nod, but my hands start to move instead. I find myself making the name sign for Nolan, then for Bryce. After a pause, I add, Carter, then, Casey.
“I’m so sorry, Matt. I don’t know those signs yet. Is-”
I start to fingerspell for him instead, doing the N shape, then the A, then M, then E.
“Name,” he says quietly before saying, louder, “Oh! Name signs. Were those name signs?”
It’s such a relief that I end up looking right at him as I nod.
He smiles at me. It feels good, that smile. I can feel it in my chest. I like when I can do that. When I can borrow just a little bit of someone's warmth and happiness. It’s almost as good as being able to smile myself. Almost.
“That’s awesome. I didn’t know you had some of those.
I’d love to learn them. Is it okay if you teach me?
Here - oh, I have the perfect thing.” He turns away and bends down to dig in a box near his feet that I hadn’t noticed before.
He pulls out laminated flashcards, like the ones from the last time we met.
The same ones, in fact, something I realize as he places them down on the coffee table in front of me. YES. NO. I DON’T KNOW/MAYBE.
Those three are followed by more, though. This time, it’s not words written on them. It’s names. The names of everyone in the safehouse - survivors, operatives, and doctors.
“I have ones for the men from the compound where you were abused,” he gently adds.
“I won’t ever put those cards out unless you ask me to, but I want you to know that they are available.
There is also a stack of cards for the survivors who left the safehouse already.
The same goes for them. Are the cards already displayed here enough for now? ”
I nod.
“Great. Do you want to teach me the name signs using these?”
I tap YES. Then I tap NOLAN and meet his eyes as I sign Nolan’s name sign.
He watches my hand movement carefully before repeating it - the N shape with the hand flipping over like the sign for ‘cook’.
I nod enthusiastically at him for getting it right.
His grin widens as he repeats it twice before making some sort of note in his journal.
We go through the others then, him grinning the whole time as he repeats each one twice before always making a note in his journal after.
“So, were you saying that Nolan,” he signs the name sign as he says his name. “Bryce, Carter, and Casey are your support system?”
I nod, then sign, Nolan, then, Bryce, again.
“Especially Nolan and Bryce?”
I nod.
“When you want to make something more dramatic or emphasize something, like if you wanted to say especially Nolan and Bryce? You can make your movements bigger. That shows emphasis. It amplifies. So if you’re really sorry or you’re really hungry or you especially like certain people or movies or something, you can sign like this.
” He signs, Nolan, then, Bryce, again, this time letting his whole body sort of move with his hands, just shy of looking silly.
I show him I understand by signing both names just like he did, with big and broad movements. I like it. Like facial expressions, it's another way to change my tone or meaning, like I would be able to if I could use my voice.
This is way better than all the talking about feelings and techniques and stuff. Way better than whatever questions are on the packet that’s now covered by flashcards.
“So, you understand that the survivors are your support system? Especially Nolan and Bryce?” he asks. I nod. “And you’re going to let them be that support system for you? You won’t run from them or try to shut them out?”
I only hesitate for a second, mostly because I want to tell him they wouldn’t give me a choice even if I wanted to, but I don’t have the signs for that and don’t feel like writing. I just nod. It’s the same answer either way - yes, I’ll let them be there for me.
“Good. That makes me really happy.” He rests his elbow on the arm of his chair, legs crossing again. “Now, this packet is just another tool. Try to see it that way. Don’t let it overwhelm you. If it works for us, then that’s excellent. If it doesn’t, we try something else. No pressure. Okay?”
I look away from him, down to the coffee table again. The card with the words I DON’T KNOW/MAYBE and the NOLAN name card lay atop the packet.
“I’ll be using the answers to understand you better. To understand your trauma better. And - if you want to go that route - to understand your mutism better.”
I was considering grabbing the packet to take a look, but that last bit of information has my hands curling around the fabric of my sweatpants instead.
“Just answer what you can, however you can, in whatever order you can. One word. Full sentences. Drawings. Anything goes. Any questions you don’t want to answer, leave blank.
I promise I won’t ask you why you didn’t answer them.
We’ll just skip them. Any questions you want help understanding or explaining, circle or put a star next to it and we can go over it together. ”
It’s getting harder to focus on his words. I try to mentally repeat them, to commit them to memory. Or, at least, to memorize his overall point. Basically: answer whatever questions I want, however I want. Right?
It’s nice to have the freedom. It's nice not to have pressure on if or how I fill it out.
I’m starting to think he’s pretty nice, overall.
I’m starting to think that there’s a tiny bit of a chance that maybe this whole therapy thing can be sort of nice too.
“Here’s the thing, Matt. When the operatives rescued you, they handed you your life back.
They handed you control of your story. I want to help you tell that story.
You deserve to be able to tell your story.
This packet is just a single tool we can use to do that.
If it works, that’s great. If it doesn’t, that’s perfectly fine too.
It doesn’t matter how we tell it. We’ll piece it together with answered questions and written words, with art and charts, with signs and cards and notebooks, with anything we can find. I have so many ways to help you.”
He shakes his head, looking a little sad, before continuing, “I’m not going to lie, it’s going to come out jumbled and blurry and an absolute mess.
That doesn’t matter, though, okay? It doesn’t matter in what order you tell me it, or if there are gaps, or if the edges are ragged.
It doesn’t matter how long it takes. Do you understand that, Matt? ”
This sounds nice, too.
I nod carefully.
Then, figuring I might as well, I lean over and carefully slide the flashcards off of the packet still on the coffee table.
I take the packet with me as I sit back, drawing my socked feet up until my knees are bent, my heels on the edge of the couch cushion.
I shoot a look at Dr. Singh, not sure if this is okay, but he’s smiling.