Thoughts of him swirl around my head the entire drive to my home in the suburbs. I’m usually better at compartmentalizing and leaving work at work. But today, I’m awash with hypotheses and potential treatment plans. Right up until the moment I open my door and am pounced on by Jeffrey, my greyhound mix. Indie is next, followed by Bran, Moto, and Bonnie.
Most people would probably think having five large rescue dogs as a single woman who works full-time is insane, but I couldn’t live without them. We run at night and in the morning, and then they sleep the rest of the day away. They’re just big teddy bears, really. They needed a safe home after their backgrounds with awful people, but they do more for me than I could ever do for them. They keep me grounded and sane.
“Okay, okay,” I say between laughs as they run circles around me. “Let me get changed!”
There are collective whines and whimpers, but they wait for me at the bottom of the stairs like they always do. I clip their leads onto my waist belt and head out again for our evening run. Waving to Mrs. Montgomery, my next-door neighbor, I take off on the same route we always do.
I could run for hours, but my poor pooches aren’t able. Plus, I still need to feed them and myself, check in on my parents, then make a plan to meet my sister tomorrow for our weekly lunch date. I wish the days were longer so I could squeeze more into them. There’s never enough time to do everything that needs to be done.
But it’s fine. I like to be busy. Less time for my mind to wander.
Chapter Four
Maya
I scan over my diary for the day, checking to see which patients I will be seeing. Emily, Carolyn, Max, Stella, and Callum. I try not to think about my clients too much outside of sessions, so checking my schedule is one of my ways of reorienting myself in my workspace. Some of my clients are actively in crisis or unpacking serious trauma, and while it’s such a privilege to bear witness and support them through it, it’s also important for me to be able to leave them at work so I can focus on my own life too.
And likewise, I need to push away all the external pressures in my life when I’m in work mode. I can’t think about Dad’s inability to take his health issues seriously or Mom’s high blood pressure as a result of how much she stresses about everyone. Worrying about whether Pippa and Maddie need anything has been a near-constant concern since Pippa’s husband died nearly five years ago, leaving my sister alone and pregnant. And then there are my obsessive compulsions and how they keep my monstrous urges in check by preventing me from listening to the voice in my head.
None of those thoughts are welcome when I’m working. So, I compartmentalize; I push them away and focus on my pre-workroutines and rituals. My patients deserve my undivided attention in sessions.
Especially Emily, my first patient of the day. I shouldn’t have favorites, but it’s hard not to feel enamored by Emily Grant. She’s asurvivorin every iteration of the word. She grew up seeing things no child should, and then she found herself repeating the pattern of intimate partner violence. The generational trauma and cycle of abuse continued from her mother to her, but Emily broke the pattern. She got out. She saved herself. She found a partner who is good to her, a best friend who would move mountains, and a new home and job she loves.
Most of all, she found happiness. The thing I wish for all of my patients, even if it looks different for each person. Everyone has their own version, and while I don’t get to decide what counts as happiness for them, seeing my clients find it brings me more joy than anything else in the world.
An hour later, when Emily tells me she’s ready to stop seeing me regularly, I remember exactly why I do this job.
“Is that okay?” she asks. “I think I’m ready.”
“Of course that’s okay, Emily. As much as I love working with you, I don’t want you to need me. I want you to stop coming because you’re ready. And you are. I’ve felt you were for a few weeks now. I was waiting for you to see it yourself.”
She lets out a sigh of relief, her shoulder dropping and her eyes sparkling at my encouragement. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for what you have done for me.”
“You’ve done the work, Emily. I just supported you through it,” I reply as warmth fills my eyes, and a mixture of pride, appreciation, and joy settles in my chest. This job can be intense. It can absolutely gut me when I sit with someone in their worst moments, through grief and loss, loneliness and desperation.
But it’s so worth it for the ones I can be with in their best moments. When everything settles into place and the pieces they refused to give up on come together. It’s such an unbelievable privilege.
Our call ends with me telling Emily that she can always contact me again in the future if needed. Hopefully she never will, but I like to give my patients the option.
Carolyn is up next. She’s considering leaving her husband after finding out he cheated on her with her closest friend. She came to therapy when the two most important people in her life betrayed her, and she needed someone she could trust. Someone impartial and non-judgmental. Someone I am happy to be.
I resume my between-patient rituals, separating myself from Emily and getting ready for Carolyn. I have to shake off the feelings I have for Emily so I can move into the space of what Carolyn needs from me.
It’s different for every person who comes to me. I’m still me, but I’m the version of me that each patient needs. That niggling inner voice I have been avoiding pops up with thoughts about what Ryan might need from me, but I push it down. I can’t afford to let that voice take root.
Breathe in for four seconds.
Hold for four seconds.
Out for four seconds.
Hold for four seconds.
Notice where my body connects to the chair and push back against the firm points.
I can do this.I am in control.
One week later
