Chapter Two
How have you been feeling?”
Bethany tossed the question over in her mind before replying. She gave an involuntary shiver. “Confused.”
“Why is that?”
She struggled to explain. “Things have been more in focus. More intense. It’s been difficult to deal with all these feelings that I haven’t experienced before.”
“Bethany,” Dr. Holly Urshman looked at her in sympathy. “We can assume that before the trauma you experienced as a child that you had these emotions before. They were just dimmed from the regime of medication that you were on. Now that we’re focusing your medications on strengthening your memory, your emotions will return to what is normal. Shall we discuss coping strategies?”
“Please,” Bethany nodded. She realized she was pulling on her purse strap, fraying the leather. This was another habit she’d picked up since changing her doctor and her medications. Fidgeting was new. Bethany wasn’t sure she was comfortable with the new her. Especially since the new her was destroying a Gucci bag.
Sometimes it was overwhelming. All these emotions and reactions that she couldn’t recall ever having experienced before. There were times when she wished for the numbness induced by her previous psychiatrist. However, Bethany wanted answers more.
“How have the nightmares been?” Holly asked.
“Frustrating,” Bethany shrugged. “They’re always the same. I can’t seem to see any further, to remember what happened.”
“Let’s go over it again,” Holly jotted something down on her notepad.
Bethany took a deep breath. “I’m in a tiny bathroom. It’s old because everything is almond colored, the tiny tub, the toilet. There’s water in the tub. He has his big hand on my face and he keeps pushing me under the water.”
Holly waited patiently as Bethany trembled at the memory of the nightmare.
“He keeps saying that I never saw anything, heard anything, that I was never there. I’m choking on the water and I can’t get away because he’s so much bigger than me,” Bethany frowned angrily. “I know who it is, I know his voice, it’s so familiar. I just can’t place it!”
“Anything else?”
“No,” she shook her head regretfully. “I just wake up choking each time.”
Holly assessed Bethany with a look. “Have you thought more about our discussion of trying to trigger the memory?”
Bethany clenched her hands so hard her manicured nails were biting into her skin. She gave a sharp nod. “I’m going to do it.”
“Are you certain?” Holly asked.
“Yes. I need to know,” Bethany said stoutly. She ignored the frisson of terror that danced down her spine.
“Then I’ll set it up,” Holly smiled. “I’m glad you’re going to take this route in your treatment. Sometimes it’s important to confront our fears.”
Bethany nodded with some trepidation.
They discussed a few minor details and then the time was up for the session. Holly scheduled Bethany in again for her normal time and promised to get in contact with her when she could get a slot in at the local pool.
Bethany agreed even as her stomach rebelled against the idea.
She debated purchasing a new purse but decided against it. There was no point in destroying another handbag. Maybe if she could manage to get her emotions under control, to find out the mystery of her past, she would be able to stop fidgeting. Bethany certainly hoped so.
Since there was some time to spend, Bethany chose to walk to the downtown dance studio where she volunteered to teach inner city kids ballet. She enjoyed the discipline and exercise that ballet gave her. For a long time, that was all that she enjoyed out of it. Now, Bethany was starting to love the dance as an art form.
That was a new development since she had changed psychiatrists and medications. She wondered if she might have been able to go professional if she had changed things when she was very young. Her teachers had always said that she had natural talent but was far too prone to keep everything very technical. Bethany could give a flawless performance but there was no warmth to it, no emotion, nothing that engaged the audience.
She’d been passed over multiple times for that particular flaw.
It was something that also haunted her musical career. The orchestra depended on her for her accuracy, but it was true, she gave no emotion, no art to the performance. Her notes were played flawlessly with the violin but there was always something missing. The orchestra paid a pittance per year to employ her talent.
Now that she was finally experiencing emotions, they felt overexposed, raw and aching. Her music had become a refuge and painful at the same time. Bethany could put art into the music but sometimes it carried her away and she had a hard time continuing.
