He chuckled, a melancholy sound to accompany his drooping lids. “I’m a licensed clinical social worker, not an MD.”
She mirrored his jovial demeanor. “If it’s okay, I like how it makes you sound official.” She needed to believe his credentialed skills could help her.
He cracked a downcast smile. “Okey dokey. Sure, you can call me Dr. Todd.”
Orchid followed him into his office. He gestured towards the sofa and swiveled his desk chair towards her.
Once they were facing one another, Todd rested a pad of paper on his knees and arranged his mournful expression.
Tammy said he was the best for trauma, she reminded herself.
“What brings you here today?” he asked.
“I’m working on an ad campaign for wounded veterans, and for the first time in a while, I opened up that I saw something as a kid. I’m having nightmares, flashbacks. And I’m easily startled.”
“Do you know the source of your trauma?”
Orchid looked down. Images arose. The smell of gas and oil clogged her nose. “I saw my parents die in a car crash. When I was twelve.”
“I’m very sorry,” he said. His voice sounded sincere.
Memories washed over her. She shared what had happened. “I lived with my aunt after that, and she sent me to therapy. I’m doing better now, in a lot of ways. I can’t complain, I have good friends, and a job I love. But sometimes, I’m still kind of a wreck…” The word’s double meaning struck her.
“Are there certain triggers?”
She counted on her fingers. “The sight of blood; the sight of doctors; anything medical; seeing people hurt; or anything that reminds me of accidents.”
He nodded. “You know to be gentle with yourself?"
"Not my strong suit.”
“First of all, it’s not your fault.”
She paused, stuck on his conclusion. “You know, other people have told me that but when you said it, I believed you.”
“Good.”
“What about me getting triggered?”
“Trauma changes the brain. Especially when it happens at a young age. Your brain is trying to protect you from danger. But even when that danger is no longer there, it’s searching for it.”
“So, what do I do? I’ve lived with this for a long time, and sort of accepted it. But then, I’ve just met someone who has it altogether. Something about him makes me want to be a better person. So, when this wounded veteran recommended you, it struck me as a good time to work on these fears.” She stopped and smiled at the memory. “She taught me box breathing.”
He nodded. “Breathing exercises are great. Meditation can help, or mantras. Some clients respond to somatic methods, to address the trauma that’s remembered in your body. And there are newer techniques, like neurofeedback, brain spotting or EMDR. Today is for intake, Orchid, and then we’ll discuss a treatment plan. How does that sound?”
She tilted her head. “Brain spotting? EMDR?”
He smiled. “It means Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing. It’s where you walk through the event, and we track where in the brain the trauma is, based on your eye movements. I know it sounds far-fetched, but the reason these mind-body techniques work—especially when other approaches like traditional talk therapy might not—is because trauma impacts the emotional centers of the brain which are most directly healed through connection with the body alongside emotional experiences. The typical talk therapy approach can be helpful, but it doesn't process through the underlying trauma as effectively as these more somatic approaches.”
“That’s the first time I’ve heard any of this described in a way that makes sense.”
“It can be very confusing. We’ll try different approaches and find what works for you.”
Orchid felt hopeful. Perhaps the next time she cut herself, she would be able to press the gauze on her oozing wound.
“I can get better,” she said. It was a new idea.
“What we do is teach you techniques to soften the reactions when you’re faced with a trigger. This will teach you to be less reactive overall. Would you like to work on that together?”
