“That’s a really great reframe. Finding the strength in what’s happening instead of focusing on the negative aspects. The brain doesn’t care about context. So maybe someone wore a red bow tie, now when you see red bow ties, trigger. But what we don’t expect is how the brain generalizes as well, so now, not only red bow ties, but maybe the color red in general, or any bow ties can be loosely associated.”
I watched as she contemplated this, some tension loosening around her. “My point is, you’re not weak or broken. It’s part of the process, having to retrain your brain to what is the danger and what isn’t.”
“Training, that’s something I understand,” she said, smiling softly.
“I bet. That’s something you can use here. You’ve focused and trained for something in your life at sixteen that most adults haven’t achieved. I think this week, I’d like you to track your triggers so we can see if there’s a pattern. Then we can formulate a “training program” together. Do you still have your journal, or do you need another one?”
“I still have it. Thanks, Loren. This has been helpful today. I’m glad I listened to my coach and tried therapy again.”
“Me too. I’m glad that we seem to have connected. Sometimes you gotta try out different therapists until you find what you need. Nothing wrong with that,” I acknowledged, getting up. “Don’t forget to grab your candy, and I’ll see you next week, Jill.”
“Yes! My favorite!” she cheered, finding the flavor she wanted. Chuckling, I knew she’d keep fighting. Finding joy in the small things was a good sign.
Checking my phone, I found a message from Wells needing to move our session, and he wanted to know if I was available on Friday instead.
ME: I’m um, getting a tattoo… Nicco won a bet. I’m not sure where. So, I could be in pain?
Mr. Surly: Why did that make me want to cancel just to watch that?
ME: Because you like seeing me in pain?
Mr. Surly: If that’s what you need to tell yourself, Kitten.
Mr. Surly: I’ll check with the kid.
ME: Why do you all call him that? You make him sound like he’s 18! He’s almost 30. I’m only 32. I’ve had pizza older than that.
Mr. Surly: That doesn’t even make sense, Kitten. And he is a kid.
ME: You don’t make sense! How old are you? You’re acting like you’re 80!
Mr. Surly: 35. He hadn’t even gone through puberty by the time I’d graduated, had my first job, and heartbreak.
ME: So is that what makes a person “mature”? And heartbreak? I find it hard to believe you weren’t the heartbreaker. You seem like the type.
Mr. Surly: I’ve broken many hearts, but it doesn’t mean I haven’t also had mine broken.
ME: You’re right. I shouldn’t assume you don’t have feelings just because you rarely show them.
Mr. Surly: Ouch, you wound me Kitten. You got your claws sharp today.
ME: Sorry, it just sometimes comes out with you.
Mr. Surly: I so want to make a joke there.
ME:?
Mr. Surly: I’m trying to be good, Kitten.
ME: That must be hard for you.
Mr. Surly: Seriously, it’s like you want me to be mean. I will not break, no matter how many sexual innuendos you keep making.
ME: I don’t want you to be mean! I think your translator is broken because I’m not making any sexual comments.
Mr. Surly: Okay, Kitten.
ME: I’m not! What did I say then?