The office felt different after Maddox left, quieter but not peaceful, like the air still held the shape of her resistance and the weight of everything she wouldn’t say. Jade returned to her chair and sat in the space they’d shared, letting the session settle into her body before she tried to make sense of it with her mind. This was part of the work too—the after. Sitting with what a client brought into the room, what they left behind, and what they couldn’t yet carry.
She picked up her leather notebook and began writing clinical observations first, then the framework that would help her track progress and assess risk.
Client presents with classic PTSD symptoms: hypervigilance, emotional restriction, and avoidance (especially deflection when discussing trauma). She has significant defensive walls, likely a protective mechanism developed through the military and first responder culture.
Her pen paused over the page as she thought about the moment Maddox had softened talking about Zeus. The pride in her voice, the tenderness she’d probably denied existed.
There’s a strong bond with her K-9 partner that demonstrates capacity for trust and emotional connection within safe parameters. Potential therapeutic entry point?
Jade continued writing, building the assessment that would guide their work, but underneath the clinical language, her thoughts wandered to the human truth of it: Maddox Shaw was carrying something heavy, and she’d been carrying it alone for too long. The weight of it showed in the tight set of her jaw, the meticulous control of every word, and the way she’d held herself ready to bolt, even while sitting still.
Resistance expected and appropriate. Trust must be earned. Client responded to tactical language and familiar military framework. Avoid pathologizing, and meet her where she is.
Her phone buzzed, and Carla’s name appeared on the screen right on schedule. Jade had texted her mentor earlier to request a brief supervision call after the session.
“Hey,” Jade answered, tucking the phone between the crook of her shoulder and her ear while she finished writing her notes.
“How’d it go?” Carla’s voice was warm and familiar. They’d worked together at the VA before Jade moved to Phoenix Ridge, and Carla had become more than a supervisor. She was a friend, sounding board, and someone who deeply understood the weight of this work.
“About how I expected. There was significant resistance. She’s not happy about being mandated.”
“Did she threaten not to come back?”
Jade smiled slightly. “Yes.”
“Will she?”
Jade set down her pen and looked out of the window at the bustle in the parking lot below. “Yes. She’s not ready to quit.”
Carla paused before speaking. “What makes you think so?”
“She stayed for the full session. If she truly didn’t care, she’d have left after ten minutes, but she stayed, answered questions,and even engaged when we talked about her K-9 partner. That’s not someone who’s given up.”
Carla’s laugh carried through the phone. “You’ve got good instincts, Jade. What’s your read on her?”
Jade leaned back in her chair, organizing her thoughts. “She’s a former Marine with combat deployment and a K-9 handler, and now, she works K-9 for Phoenix Ridge PD. She has textbook PTSD presentation with strong protective instincts, and she’s isolated outside of her bond with her dog.”
“Sounds like half the first responders we worked with at the VA.”
“Pretty much, yeah, but there’s something else.” Jade paused, searching for the right words. “She’s competent, really competent, and she’s using that competence as armor. As long as she can do the job perfectly, she doesn’t have to acknowledge what it’s taking from her.”
“Until her body forces her to stop,” Carla supplied.
“Exactly.”
“So, what’s your approach?”
Jade glanced at her notes, even though she already knew her answer. “I’m building trust slowly and using tactical language that she responds to, and I’ll focus on her K-9 partner since it’s the one relationship where she allows herself to be vulnerable. Right now, I’m just holding space and letting her see that showing up doesn’t have to mean falling apart.”
“It sounds solid.” Carla’s tone shifted, becoming more serious. “How are you doing with it? First responder work can be triggering given your background.”
Jade appreciated the personal check-in. Carla always asked and made sure Jade wasn’t taking on more than she could carry. “I’m good. It’s familiar territory, but not overwhelming. Mostly, I just see myself five years ago when I was convinced I wasfine, white-knuckling through every day, and refusing to admit I needed help.”
“And what about now?”
“Now I know better, which is why I think I can really help her.”
They talked for a few more minutes—case planning, ethical considerations, and self-care reminders—before ending the call. Jade added a few more notes to Maddox’s file, then closed the folder and stood, stretching out her stiff legs.
