Today, I have a mission!
... and after gearing up in a hat, hoodie and sunglasses, I feel just safe enough to step out that door. I walk quickly. I know I have 2 crosswalks, a bus ride and 6 more busy street crossings between here and my appointment downtown.
The bus is very loud and bumpy. I don't even remember getting on. With the AC roaring, and windows open to the sound of passing vehicles, the driver barrels down the road and around the corners. His radio is going off with messages from other drivers. The people across from me are having a conversation about their plans, they seem upset.
At a red light I unclench my backpack and with trembling hands manage to get my earbuds in, though they do not cancel the noise. I squeeze my backpack in my lap and rock lightly back and forth, my eyes shut. The sting of tears is building behind my lids as the cortisol travels through my body like a bullet train.
It is my stop. I pull the cord, the bus jerks to a stop. I shout over the classical violin playing in my ears to the driver "THANK YOU!" and begin running. A child shouts, someone honks, a loud engine rips down the street. Just a few more blocks, a few more corners, a few more crosswalks. Someone shuts their car door as I run past, I flinch and let out a yelp. It's getting worse, everything is starting to spin, I feel sick. Walking sign, walking sign, walking sign, office building!
I punch in the building code, run up the stairs and straight to the ice machine for some cold water. I chug two small cups, make a bee line to the open door of my therapist and shut it behind me.
She can tell.
"Okay." She says in a soothing voice. "You're here. You made it. You're safe."
Her room is nice and dark, shades drawn. She always makes sure I'm comfortable. I grab one of the red pillows off the couch and rock back and forth as tears stream down my face. This is a safe space, where rocking is okay.
"That must have been so overwhelming." She continues speaking to me in a calm and reassuring tone.
I nod and look at the floor. She knows I'm listening to her, I don't need to look up.
-----
After the session is over, she reminds me I can always email her. I manage to smile at someone leaving the building at the same time, they thank me for holding the door.
I'm no longer on the brink of a meltdown, but everything is still loud, busy and bright. I allow myself to miss the bus. It's okay to go at my own pace.
I get groceries, instead of rushing, I allow myself an hour.
Loud street, loud bus, crosswalk, jaywalk, loud car, loud truck, motorcycle, truck, service truck, truck, front door!
I step into the house and shut the door behind me, much like my therapist's room, it is quiet and dark. I let out a sigh of relief. I did it. I did the thing, and also have stuff to make dinner- Ding, ding. BONUS
I email my therapist,
"I'm glad I was brave and made it to my meeting with you. Thank you for giving me a safe space."
I get a quick reply,
"You WERE brave and are very welcome for the safe space.
I'll send your "homework" directions tomorrow."
Therapy is important to me, because I have someone who knows my mind and helps me appreciate my own efforts.
Today might have been a difficult experience, but I get to go to bed knowing it was a 100% VALID experience.
Thank you for reading.
... and after gearing up in a hat, hoodie and sunglasses, I feel just safe enough to step out that door. I walk quickly. I know I have 2 crosswalks, a bus ride and 6 more busy street crossings between here and my appointment downtown.
The bus is very loud and bumpy. I don't even remember getting on. With the AC roaring, and windows open to the sound of passing vehicles, the driver barrels down the road and around the corners. His radio is going off with messages from other drivers. The people across from me are having a conversation about their plans, they seem upset.
At a red light I unclench my backpack and with trembling hands manage to get my earbuds in, though they do not cancel the noise. I squeeze my backpack in my lap and rock lightly back and forth, my eyes shut. The sting of tears is building behind my lids as the cortisol travels through my body like a bullet train.
It is my stop. I pull the cord, the bus jerks to a stop. I shout over the classical violin playing in my ears to the driver "THANK YOU!" and begin running. A child shouts, someone honks, a loud engine rips down the street. Just a few more blocks, a few more corners, a few more crosswalks. Someone shuts their car door as I run past, I flinch and let out a yelp. It's getting worse, everything is starting to spin, I feel sick. Walking sign, walking sign, walking sign, office building!
I punch in the building code, run up the stairs and straight to the ice machine for some cold water. I chug two small cups, make a bee line to the open door of my therapist and shut it behind me.
She can tell.
"Okay." She says in a soothing voice. "You're here. You made it. You're safe."
Her room is nice and dark, shades drawn. She always makes sure I'm comfortable. I grab one of the red pillows off the couch and rock back and forth as tears stream down my face. This is a safe space, where rocking is okay.
"That must have been so overwhelming." She continues speaking to me in a calm and reassuring tone.
I nod and look at the floor. She knows I'm listening to her, I don't need to look up.
-----
After the session is over, she reminds me I can always email her. I manage to smile at someone leaving the building at the same time, they thank me for holding the door.
I'm no longer on the brink of a meltdown, but everything is still loud, busy and bright. I allow myself to miss the bus. It's okay to go at my own pace.
I get groceries, instead of rushing, I allow myself an hour.
Loud street, loud bus, crosswalk, jaywalk, loud car, loud truck, motorcycle, truck, service truck, truck, front door!
I step into the house and shut the door behind me, much like my therapist's room, it is quiet and dark. I let out a sigh of relief. I did it. I did the thing, and also have stuff to make dinner- Ding, ding. BONUS
I email my therapist,
"I'm glad I was brave and made it to my meeting with you. Thank you for giving me a safe space."
I get a quick reply,
"You WERE brave and are very welcome for the safe space.
I'll send your "homework" directions tomorrow."Therapy is important to me, because I have someone who knows my mind and helps me appreciate my own efforts.
Today might have been a difficult experience, but I get to go to bed knowing it was a 100% VALID experience.
Thank you for reading.
