I realize I’m trembling. My teeth start to chatter. I cover my mouth with my sleeve. I just got snot on it. I hope that’s not too gross I think. I keep looking around the room at the mismatched art. He has Asian, Hispanic and Indian but nothing good. He has something so drab and stark it reminds me of myself. He says a name and I jump. I think to myself, “Why does he keep calling me that?” I can see him, almost but not clearly. I know where I am but I’m still afraid. He wants to know why I’m afraid but all I can do is cover my mouth and rock. I’m scared. I have to get grounded but I forgot my drawing pad. I can’t draw. I’ve got my little duck and I’ve got some candy. I need a cigarette. We have to turn the lights up higher, it’s too dark. I keep going away. I have to get myself under control, get grounded, at least enough to walk out of here and not let on that I crumbled at the mere mention of going to the doctor. It’s just that the sight of her is so close. I can feel her on my hands. I run but not far enough. Someone inside is calling, “Help me.” Someone else is whining “No” someone else is coming up so quickly that I can’t tell who it is. I’m watching myself rock. I can hear him call a name. I snap back. I forgot he was sitting there. I keep forgetting that he’s sitting there.
How strange to experience the past and present simultaneously. It’s like a movie, watching myself, watching him, looking at everything in the room and seeing and feeling my mother. It’s like a movie. I’m watching. Adam comes so fast I don’t even know he’s there until he’s gone. I must have looked so strange to be in that kind of condition then sitting up right breathing normally, not in a total panic. It doesn’t last long because that view is back. I can hear the crying. I can see everything and hear everything just like it was yesterday. I have to walk out of here like I’m okay. I hope he doesn’t touch me. God if he touches me I’ll lose my mind. He stands back really far and lets me past. I say “um” like it’s a complete sentence then “Yeah…um..um..yeah.” I walk away. We walk away. If we keep freaking out like this he’s going to quit. We can’t keep freaking out like this.
Tremble: Therapy Review -Tuesday, July 22, 2008-11:48PM EST
Can you bring him some artwork of yours to hang in his office? That might help ground you - and it sure would be nicer to look at than what he has hanging there.
Now there’s an idea… that’s a great idea. I’d have to bring it w/ me each time though cause I wouldn’t be allowed to leave it in his office. Heck, I have postcards.