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Miranda reminds me of Jessie as she rolls her eyes. “I guess.”
“You’re acting very different than you have in the past when you’re here. Different even than you did at the beginning of this session a few minutes ago. Do you feel that?”
She shrugs and stares at her feet. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Miranda’s knee start to bounce. My heart is beating as fast as those bounces.
Maria, keeps her eyes on the movement while she speaks. “Are you uncomfortable talking about this?”
I know I am. I want this to end. It feels like I am watching a medieval torture, seeing my wife squirm the way she is. I am going to need to get her a really big coffee when this is all over.
Miranda licks her lips, furrows her brow, and leans her elbows onto her knees. “Which part do you think is making me uncomfortable? The physical discomfort I feel whenever I have to be outside for longer than thirty-five seconds, or my abusive father?”
Maria leans back in her chair in response to Miranda’s leaning toward her.
Then Miranda jumps to her feet and blurts out, “I don’t think I can keep talking about this right now. I need to get something to eat before we have to pick up the kids.” She starts for the door as I sit stunned in her wake.
I am not used to her walking out of an unfinished conversation like this. I’m not used to her having an outburst with anyone outside of our immediate family, her safe people, as she calls us when she tells the kids it’s ok to lose your cool sometimes and we’ll always been there.
I know all about her dad. I didn’t know about him until that graduation party. But then, it all came out, fast and furious.
We went back inside together, and I asked if I could get her a drink. Never a big alcohol drinker, she wanted a Shirley Temple. I ordered two. As I turned around to bring them back to I almost slammed into him.
“Whoa there, Jakey! Oh hey, whatcha got there?” He examined our drinks before chuckling out, “Shirley Temples, eh? That silly daughter of mine still can’t drink grown up drinks, huh?” He elbowed me playfully. “And you too? What, are you a sissy? Why are you having that kiddie drink?”
My mouth was dry as I took him in. I scrunched up my eyes. “Well, sir, we’re perfectly happy with our drink choices and I’m not sure why it matters much to you.” I looked at Miranda who had gone pale again on the other side of the room. “And as for your daughter, she’s the most amazing woman I have ever met. I love her, and I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t speak about her in such a deprecating way.”
He stood slack-jawed, unsure how to respond to someone who didn’t immediately melt into his hand like everyone else seemed to. He shook his head and walked away.
I brought Miranda her drink and we stood there, shoulder to shoulder, observing the people who were supposed to be there to celebrate her, but were clearly just there to see her illusive father.
I didn’t bother looking at her when I told her, “If you want to cut him out of your life, I will support you. One-hundred percent. You are my priority. I just need you to be okay.”
I felt her head lean down to rest on my shoulder and heard a faint, “I love you, Jake Gold.”
Maria clicks her pen closed and lays it on the notepad, showing she is open to receive whatever Miranda wants to share, and speaks softly so Miranda has to stop and turn around to hear. “Miranda, I need five more minutes. Please?”
Surprising both Maria and me, Miranda comes back to the couch, dragging her feet the whole way. Another new behavior I’ve never seen. I wonder what the rest of the day is going to be like when we walk out of here together.
Maria speaks with measured patience. “I’m not going to bullshit you. I think that something seriously traumatic happened to you on one of your childhood camping trips, and I don’t think you’re going to be able to get over it unless you let me help you to access your memories. And I can’t do that if you’re going to cross your arms, sulk, and close yourself off to my help like you’re still a teenager.”
Miranda furrows her brow and snaps, “What are you talking about?”
I’m on the edge of my couch cushion now. Something traumatic? I could name half a dozen traumatic things she went through because of her father. But I know about them because she remembers those. And they’re pretty bad. But this is something so bad she doesn’t even remember it. Even if Miranda doesn’t want to know what it is, I think she has to.Wehave to. I want to move forward together and I don’t know how we can with this hanging over us.
Maria looks her right in her eyes when she speaks. “You just had a trauma response when we actually got into it just now. You regressed into a teenage-like state of defiance. It isn’t your fault, but you need to be aware of it. And we need to have more sessions on these issues so we can get you through it. Only then will you be able to make some real progress. Okay?”
I recognize Miranda’s apologetic, ashamed nod.
“Good. I know this is a lot and I won’t make you stay and dig into your blocked memories now. However, before you leave, I want to go over a couple techniques you can use to calm down when you start to feel panicked. That is, when you start to feel your heart race, start breaking out in a sweat, feel like you just want to freeze and at the same time run like hell. Yeah?” Maria turns to me, pulling me into the conversation more than I have been so far. “Jake, I’m glad you’re here. I want you to remind Miranda of these techniques when you notice her start to get anxious.”
The idea that I need to remind her of anything when she’s anxious makes my gut clench. Afterall, she punches me when we train so I know how hard she hits. I have the literal bruises to prove it. I bite back the remark I want to make about how Maria obviously doesn’t care ifIsurvive these panic attacks. but I know this isn’t the time, and I do want to be there for Miranda. She has always been my rock. She’s helped me through so many of my own breakdowns, and near breakdowns. She is always there for me. Now that it is my turn, I want to rise to the occasion for her. So, I simply nod in agreement.
Maria continues once I’ve taken my phone out and opened the notes app. I really don’t want to forget anything. “Okay. First is a breathing technique. It’s called four-seven-eight breathing. Start by putting one hand on your belly and the other on your chest. Good. Now, breathe in, two, three, four, hold, two, three, four, five, six, seven, and exhale slowly, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Good. When you do that four or five times, the pattern will help your amygdala realize you’re not in danger.”
Miranda raises an eyebrow but only says, “I really need to go. Was there anything else?”
“Of course. The next one is called five-four-three-two-one grounding. You’re going to look around yourself and name, out loud, five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. This grounds you in reality so your mind can’t run away with your fears.”
