Damaged - N.H.

18

"People think I'm crazy because I need a shrink."

I sat on the small couch, wringing my hands together nervously as I spoke. It had been a couple of weeks since the article came out and it ended up getting more attention than I had hoped. I tried to lay low, switch up my appointments so paparazzi never knew when I would be here, and I pretty much stayed away from social media right now. I did my best to avoid anything toxic or triggering. Dr. Craton watched me intently as I spoke.

"Do you think you're crazy?" He asked.

I shifted in my seat, my eyes drifting towards the window. I shrugged. "I don't know. It feels like I am sometimes."

"What does the term crazy mean to you? What makes you feel like you're crazy?"

I glanced around the room as I thought about his questions. "I don't really know. The paranoia, I guess."

"How so?" He pressed.

"I have this great life now, but I can't fully enjoy it. I'm always worried, waiting on the next bad thing to happen."

He nodded. "What about the dreams? Are you still having them?"

"Sometimes. Maybe once a week. They mostly went away when Niall came home, and Liz living with me has helped." I explained.

"Good, that's progress." He nodded. "Well, I can assure you that you aren't crazy. I do have a diagnoses for you now, though."

I tried to brace myself. "Okay...what is it?"

"I do believe you have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder." He stated.

I wasn't too surprised. I know he didn't expect me to be, either. It was obviously something that had been mentioned before, and it was discussed in the weekly sessions I've been having almost every time as something that was a possibility.

"Okay." I muttered. "So now what? What do I do?"

"We keep up your sessions and you continue everything I've told you to do so far when you aren't here." He replied.

"So...no pills?" I asked hesitantly.

He shook his head. "No. Not now, anyway. I think you have a mild enough case that we can take care of this without medicine. We'll reevaluate in a couple of months."

"Will I always have to deal with this? For the rest of my life?"

He sighed. "Unfortunately, past trauma is not something you can just get rid of. You'll still have memories and you will have to use coping mechanisms occasionally. Some times will be harder than others and there are plenty of things that can trigger you. However, it's possible to live a completely normal life with your PTSD under control. You may not always have the nightmares or be terrified by certain noises."

"So there's a chance?" I asked.

Dr. Craton chuckled lightly. "As much as I want to be able to give you a definite answer, I can't. Every individual is different. Years from now, you may be completely fine and this will all be a thing of the past...or it could be something you still struggle with occasionally. Either way, you can live a happy and fulfilling life. This doesn't define you."

I left the appointment that day feeling surprisingly okay with my diagnoses. I thought when he finally was able to tell me what was wrong with me, that I would feel broken. Hopeless. Like a failure, even. But I felt the opposite. I was hopeful that I could overcome this. I shouldn't have to live like this for the rest of my life. I wouldn't. I refused to!

I peered out the window in the waiting room after my session as I prepared to leave the office. I observed for a moment as I looked for anyone waiting around to possibly see me exiting the building. It was obvious now, since I was caught at Dr. Craton's office before. That didn't mean I wanted to give people more of a reason to talk about me though.