"This doesn't make me a weak person,"
Sharon told herself as she maneuvered her tan Volvo into a cramped parking space between two large SUV's, who in her opinion, had badly parked. Turning the engine off she set the keys in her lap, closed her eyes and sat for a few moments concentrating on her breathing.
In and out. In and out.
She forced her mind to focus on the way each deep breath caused her ribs to expand away from her spine and each exhale brought them back again. She focused on how each breath stilled her mind and left her calm, her emotions grounded. She was determined to walk into the therapist's office level headed as she normally was until recently.
She thought she had managed to escape being held a hostage and watching Rusty be shot twice without any emotional trauma. However, a week after he was discharged from the hospital she had begun to have flashbacks and panic attacks. At first they happened only at night. She would wake up drenched in sweat, her heart racing, and her arms numb. When she had managed to calm down enough that she could stand straight without feeling dizzy, she'd check on her son to reassure herself he was alive.
It was easy to hide it from Rusty and even Dr. Joe when he was there for his weekly therapy sessions with Rusty. She'd walk out of her bedroom, her shoulders straight with a smile on her face telling both of them that she was doing well and couldn't believe how grateful she was that their nightmare was over. It wasn't long though till the panic attacks began to occur during the day without warning. She had one while on the phone with her daughter, another while taking a shower and the latest was at the grocery store. Each one left her feeling out of control, exhausted and as in the case of the grocery store, embarrassed as she left her full basket in the middle of the aisle and stumbled her way out of the store her eyes huge, her chest heaving, her head swimming and her arms quickly growing numb as she struggled to get to the safety of her car.
She was a police captain for goodness sakes. She had seen her fair share of shootings, particular videos of shootings during FID investigations. She had even shot someone right after graduating from the Academy and she had never reacted in this way.
Yesterday though, after Dr. Joe had finished his session with Rusty, he had asked to talk to her. Sitting in the chair across from where she sat curled up on the red sofa, he had looked her straight in the eyes and kindly asked how she was really doing. The gentleness and genuine concern that pooled in his blue eyes shocked her and she felt tears fill her own eyes before she quickly blinked them away. She hated to cry in front of others and glancing down at her lap she played with a blue piece of thread, that happened to be on her pants, and mumbled the same thing she always said when people asked how she was holding up,
" I'm fine."
"Really? Because, I have to say, you don't look fine to me. In fact you look the opposite of fine. You've lost weight, your eyes have lost their shine, and I haven't seen a real smile from you since I started sessions with Rusty two weeks ago,"
Even though he had said it nicely, it still hurt a little that he had been able to see through her façade, and the tears she had forced back came tumbling down her cheeks. Handing her a tissue, he had patiently waited while she broke down and finally admitted she wasn't doing so well.
"This is completely normal after what you experienced,"
"But, I'm a police captain. I've seen multiple shootings; I've been trained on what to do if a gun was held to my head. It wasn't anything new,"
"But, it was a new experience for you. Have you had a gun held to your head by a psychopath who had been writing you and Rusty threatening letters before? Have you watched your son be shot twice by that same psychopath? Have you had to deal with watching someone you love go through hours of painful physical therapy? This wasn't a shooting by a random officer you had heard of but barely knew. This wasn't just any ordinary victim. This was your son. This was personal. Of course you're going to have some kind of reaction to this event. I'd be more worried if you didn't,"
He had then handed her a business card for a colleague of his who was an expert on trauma. Now here she was sitting in the car she had kept for her children and now for Rusty to drive once he was healed.
With one more deep breath, she unlocked the door then climbed out of the car. Her auburn hair glistened in the sunshine and her green eyes were accentuated by her hunter green button-down-blouse, which she paired with dark blue boot cut jeans and black ankle cut leather boots. Striding towards the front doors of the therapists office she hesitated for a moment before putting her hand out and grasping the silver handle of the door.
Walking inside, she was pleasantly surprised to find that the front room was void of the typical sterile office décor. Instead it was warmly decorated in brown overtones. The carpet was a plush dark brown, the couch and loveseat were light brown and looked as soft and cozy as her own. In the corner were kid toys and a tall bookshelf full of both fiction and non-fiction books as well as the latest psychology today, People, and Home and Garden magazines. A desk sat at the far wall and a receptionist dressed in business casual attire sat there with a warm smile on her face. Walking towards her Sharon said,
"I'm Sharon Raydor, and I'm here to see Dr. Melissa Walker,"
Introducing herself as Allison, the young woman handed her a sheet to fill out for health insurance purposes and told her Dr. Walker would be with her soon. Sharon sat down on the couch, which was indeed as soft as her own, and quickly filled out the paperwork. No sooner had she handed in the paperwork and sat back down, did a woman in her early sixties walk into the front room. She was dressed in black slacks and a long white cashmere sweater with black suede heels. Her grey and white hair was pulled elegantly back into a bun and black square glasses covered her chestnut colored brown eyes.
Talking to Allison for a moment, she turned to Sharon, walked over and extended a hand.
"You must be Sharon. I'm Melissa, please follow me," she said shaking her hand and smiling at her before turning and walking down the hallway.
Sharon followed closely behind observing everything as she headed towards the woman's office. Inside Sharon's eyes widened a little. The office was roomy and decorated close to the front office. Instead of carpet the floor was a medium brown hardwood. Two dark brown sofas sat across from each other and a dark brown recliner stood to the right near a wall. A small red Oriental rug lay on the floor between the furniture. A mahogany colored desk sat across the room with a white apple laptop and a table lamp on the left side and neatly stacked manila folders on the right. A stone waterfall fountain sat on the floor near the desk, the trickling sound soothing any anxiety Sharon was feeling about her first meeting.
The room had multiple windows with their blinds open allowing sunlight to stream in. They overlooked a green lawn that was beautifully landscaped with a variety of flowers and manicured bushes. The oak walls were decorated with professional pictures of oceans and forests. Feeling at home Sharon turned her gaze towards Melissa.
"Please take a seat," Melissa said sitting on the couch closest to her desk and patiently waiting for Sharon to settle in. Once Sharon had turned her eyes to her she said,
"So Sharon, I find that it best makes my patients feel at home once I introduce myself. My name is Melissa, please call me that, and I've been working with trauma victims for the past thirty years. I'm a native Californian and when I'm not here I'm on the beach with my dog or cooking for friends,"
"Helping people overcome their past traumas is a huge passion of mine, and I will do everything in my power to make sure this office remains a safe and secure place for you. Through the years I've learned that people react very differently when bringing up the past so if you need to pace, lay down, take off your shoes and curl up, cry, look out the window, whatever you're comfortable with, feel free to do so. This is a non-judgment zone so you may say anything you like. So to start off how about you introduce yourself. What do you do for a living?"
A little surprised by the ease she felt with this woman, Sharon felt her shoulders relax and with a small smile she introduced herself ending with the fact she was in the process of adopting her foster son Rusty and why she had made the appointment.
Smiling calmly at Sharon, Melissa said,
"You don't beat around the bush. I like that. Now, how about we start from the beginning. Let's talk about Rusty and how he came to be living with you. We'll work our way up to why you are currently having panic attacks. Take your time and if you start to feel like it's too much, stop. There is no need to rush or push yourself.
Without a second thought, Sharon started in on how she had first met Rusty during a case with ex-colleague Chief Johnson, to Chief Johnson leaving her job. She talked about Rusty being a material witness in that murder trial and having no home due to being abandoned by his drug addicted mother. She continued by mentioning bringing him home and becoming his foster mom.
As she talked, Melissa observed her patient's body posture. She noticed how Sharon's green eyes sparkled with love and concern when she talked about Rusty and her children. She noticed her body posture slump and her eyes dim and harden when she mentioned the threatening letters and Provinsa and Taylor's insane idea to use him in a police mission. She could tell that despite the past few months, Sharon was a strong woman. She knew this patient would do everything in her power to make herself better.
"Since then, I keep having flashbacks at night and panic attacks. I've been able to hide them from Rusty, but I'm worried I won't be able to for long. I don't want to scare him. Plus, I only have another two weeks of leave left. What if it happens at work? I've worked hard to keep my imagine in a department dominated by tough, often times sexist, men. I can't be seen as weak. I also don't need these panic attacks to affect my job. I can't be hyperventilating and going crazy when I have important decisions to make. I want to be back to my old self. This new weak me is just not going to do,"
Nodding her head Melissa said,
"First off, thank you for telling me all that. From everything you've said, and shown me through your body language, I have to say you are one strong woman. I don't see this weak person you say you are. Now, forgive me, but I'm going to pry a little more into some of the things you mentioned,"
Before Sharon knew it, an hour and a half had gone by and she was scheduling an appointment with Allison for next week. Humming as she headed to her car, she couldn't believe how much better she felt from just one session. It was nice to have someone who was empathetic to talk to. She also had a few exercises to practice at home concerning how to deal with stress and the panic attacks that plagued her.
Rusty was lying on the couch asleep with Det. Sykes sitting in the chair across from him reading a book, when Sharon walked in. Amy quickly stood up as Sharon set her keys in the bowl and her purse on the table.
"How is he?" Sharon asked walking towards the pair.
"Physical therapy wore him out, but he was a trooper. He did refuse to take his pain medication, said it made him feel funny. I gave him a couple Tylenol, put on a movie and he fell immediately to sleep. Sharon smiled at her son who was wrapped in the blanket she kept on the chair. He looked pale and she looked forward to the day when he was no longer in pain.
"Rusty's social worker stopped by and brought you an envelope. She chatted with Rusty for a bit before leaving. Its on the table,"
"Thank you Amy," Sharon replied walking her out and closing the door behind her.
Glancing again at her sleeping son, Sharon headed to the table where she sat down and opened the envelope. Inside she found paperwork, and a court date for her and Rusty to meet with the judge. A smile broke across Sharon's face. It was finally happening. She was finally going to be able to adopt Rusty.
