therapy / e.d

8

"Fourth session today." Dr Evans points out as we sit in our allocated seats. That was quick. I'm halfway done with these shrink sessions and I can't believe that they've actually been helping me.

As I settle in my seat, he immediately notices my change in sitting position. My knees are no longer resting on my chest. My legs hang freely with my feet placed on the ground. I'm taking a big leap with ditching the comfort and safe feeling of my knees pressed against my chest.

I've been feeling a little better these last few days, evidently. With the drawing mechanism as well as finally letting out my emotions to mom. It seemed like that set us on the track to normalcy.

Plus, seeing Ethan. Even though it was only a dream, it was good for me. Seeing him alive and talking to me. It motivated me to be better and live. Those three words I see constantly on my pin board encourage me.

"You're sitting differently I see." He observes, crossing his legs like he always does. "You seem better rested too. Have you been sleeping?" He stares at my less prominent eye bags.

"Not really." I say in monotone. "I covered my bags with makeup." I lie. I haven't worn makeup in months. I don't see the point and I barely care for my appearance.

His face falls and he lets out a disappointed sigh. Damn he's gullible.

"I'm joking." I deadpan.

He stares at me hardly before cracking a small smile. Something I still haven't been able to do.

"I'm finally meeting the sarcastic Mia I've heard so much about." He says, referring to the person I've described myself as from my revealed memories. I shrug. Then he hardens his features, meaning business. "Be honest now. Have you been sleeping?"

"I've been taking daily naps. I'm still weary of sleeping during the night." Somehow, it's like the flashback doesn't appear when I nap. I guess it's because I'm only asleep for about an hour. Or maybe because my mind is so focused on seeing Ethan, alive and well in my dreams again.

He nods. "It's better than no sleep but you need to begin to ease into a sleep schedule." He speaks in a serious matter to which I agree to. "What's the reason for the sudden change in how you sit?" He questions.

"I spoke to my mom and it lifted a bit of weight off my chest. And... I saw Ethan, alive." I speak quietly, picking at my fingernails.

Dr Evans stares at me with a puzzled expression. "You saw him...?"

"I dreamt him. And for the first time, it was okay." I speak, remembering the comfort of his hug but how his skin remained cold to the touch. "I don't know... I guess that's what's helping me sleep now." I sigh, still feeling broken.

"Have you looked at any pictures of him since I suggested the idea?" To be honest, I haven't even thought about facing the pictures yet. I shake my head. "I recommend you start trying it soon."

I don't know if I'm mentally ready for that. I would love to see his smile and to see him happy but there's something stopping me. I don't want to be bombarded with all these memories and then feel a wave of sadness for the aftermath.

I gulp down the threatening lump growing in my throat and stiffly nod to make Dr Evans feel at ease.

"You've made great progress so far." He comments and I scoff.

"Barely. I still feel horrible. I'm far from normal. I still have anxiety-"

"We don't want to focus on the negatives. That's taking a step backwards in closure." He stops me from degrading myself any further. He rubs his chin in thought momentarily before readjusting his glasses. "Can you list the positives of your progress so far? I always do this with patients at the half way point in recovery."