Dr. Masley laid her hand on my knee. “Breathe, Bailey. Calm down. Talk about this at your own pace,” she reminded me.
That was another thing. When I got overwhelmed, I started stuttering really bad again, and sometimes, I completely forgot everything I was talking about.
I drew in a deep breath, trying to calm myself back down again.
“Trent and I were like best friends,” I started again. “Everything seemed okay, but I found him in the bathroom.” I stopped again, forcing myself to calm down again as my heart raced in my chest. Apparently, all of the new, heightened emotions were normal for me after the nervous breakdown I’d had.
Dr. Masley described it as my brain restarting itself.
“There was so much blood,” I whispered. I could still see Trent lying on that bathroom floor, blood all around him.
“He tried to kill himself,” I added. I looked at Dr. Masley. “I screamed for Dad. And I had my first anxiety attack. It felt like I was dying.”
I didn’t know how else to explain it. My chest had hurt. I couldn’t breathe. I’d been shaking so badly that I couldn’t even walk.
“Has your mental health always been bad after that?”
I nodded. She frowned. “It seems to me that your family focused a lot on Trent after that incident, somewhat neglecting you.”
I had never realized it, but what she said was actually true. My parentshadfocused a lot of their time on Trent. They had felt like they neglected him by focusing so much on me—the baby in the family. And that was when Trent became my rock because I, in a way, became his reason to live.
I gave him a purpose.
But seeing him like that had fucked me up. I’d always thought Trent was the strongest person I’d ever known until I found him almost dead on that bathroom floor.
My hands shook as the image of Trent flashed behind my eyes again. Dr. Masley grabbed my hands in hers. “Open your eyes, Bailey. Remember your coping exercises.”
I snapped my eyes open and quickly began to do the 5-4-3-2-1 grounding technique. My eyes dried, and my breathing regulated, the tightness in my chest easing.
I’d been panicking and hadn’t even realized it.
“That was good, Bailey. I’m very proud of you for remembering one of your techniques.” She released my hand. “Now, let’s talk about Seth.”
I frowned at her. “What about him?” I asked her.
She gave me a small, sad smile. “Your downwards spiral into depression happened because of how much you buried yourself in everything that was him,” she gently told me.
I shook my head, denying it. That wasn’t true, was it? She grabbed my hand in hers. “It doesn’t make loving him wrong, but we need to work through everything that happened with him to get to the core of everything else.”
My eyes welled with tears. All of that pain from all those months ago washed over me. “He l-left me,” I cried, my voice breaking, my stuttering coming back. That pain was still as fresh as the day it happened. He’d abandoned both me and our baby.
“I know, hun, and we’re going to work through your feelings on that until you’re coping with it, okay?” She gently squeezed my hands. “So, Bailey, let’s start from the beginning, and talk about it all at your pace.”
So, I did. For hours, way past the time of the ending of our therapy session, I talked about everything that happened with me and Seth, and she worked me through each of those moments, helping me get through them.
At the end of it all, she smiled at me. “Now, I want you to close your eyes, Bailey.” I did as she instructed. God, I was so tired. My eyes were burning from all the crying I had done. I just really wanted to take a nap. “I want you to picture that day Seth walked out on you in your mind.” I sucked in a sharp breath but did as she asked. Pain lanced through my chest as that day played out like a horror movie in my head. “Now, I want the person you are today to hug her, and I want you to assure her that she’s going to be okay. Promise her that she’s not alone.”
Tears ran down my cheeks as I did as she said. I walked up to myself then in my mind, and I wrapped my arms around the old me, whispering those soothing words to her as Seth walked out that door. “I want you to do this with every version of you that ever felt like giving up, Bailey—every version of you that ever felt wasn’t worthy enough. I want you to show each of those versions of you that love you wish you had then. I want you to remind them that they’re not alone, and they’re going to make it.”
I sobbed, doing as she said. My tears tasted salty on my tongue as I spoke, my shoulders shaking as I cried.
“And now, Bailey, I want you to wrap your arms around yourself on that delivery bed. I want you to promise her that she’s going to love her baby, that she’s going to survive every bit of pain coming her way. She’s going to make it through all of the confusion and all of the dark thoughts and feelings.”
After, Dr. Masley wrapped me in her arms and held me as I sobbed. That therapy session had been one of the hardest things I’d ever gone through.
But it had helped me in ways I never knew I could be helped.
Because those past versions of me that Dr. Masley had spoken of? Those past versions of me that Dr. Masley made me love?