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“Good. Well, our appointment is set for the same time next week. We’ll talk more and check in and see where you’re at and what you need.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“Of course. Have a good night.”
“You too.”
The call ends and I lie back against the pillows. My shirt is soaked with stress sweat, but I feel better. Relieved. I like the idea of listing and journaling, and though I think journaling might be tougher because it’ll bring out more raw emotions, I want to try it.
I’m glad I matched with that therapist. Originally, I wanted a female, but his calm, easygoing nature was exactly what I needed. The session was nothing like I expected. I thought we’d be parsing over intimate details of my past, but I’m realizing how much of therapy is self-work.
I’m surprised at how optimistic I feel, but having the tools to succeed in any situation is key, and I think tonight helped me find some good ones.
Sitting up again, I close my laptop screen and climb off the bed. I quickly change my sweaty shirt, digging one of Miles’s cozy old Ida baseball tees from his dresser. They’re soft and never tight on my bump.
I hope Miles’s therapy appointment on Thursday is as helpful as mine was tonight. And I hope the psychiatrist can find a balance between talk therapy and meds that works for him.
I would never tell him he needs meds, but I think they could benefit him. Even as we were in a better space over the weekend, his anxiety came through several times. The worst was when we were reading one of the pregnancy books together and we got to the time after the baby was born and the book talked about SIDS. Miles went deep into an anxiety spiral, trying to figure out how long we should keep the crib in our room and what type of mattress was best and all the tiny ways we could possibly prevent that outcome. It took a lot of calming words from me, plenty of talking, and some deep breathing to pull him out of the spiral, but he’s still on edge about it.
Feeling helpless and unable to protect the people he loves are his biggest triggers, and I think with the baby, it’ll only get worse, and that’s where I hope meds might help. Otherwise, I’m worried he’ll have an anxiety attack every time he puts her down to sleep.
I want him to enjoy the time with our daughter and not be riddled with anxiety.
After another long breath in and out, I’m ready to snuggle up with Miles. My phone goes off before I take a step, so I sit back down and look at it, finding a text from Aaron.
Aaron: This is me casually checking in to make sure you’re still alive. Both of you.
Me: Why wouldn’t we be?
Aaron: Well, none of us have heard from you guys since late Friday night. We figured you were… reconnecting. But on the off chance there was a Romeo and Juliet sort of situation, I wanted to check in.
Me: Nope. No warring families or taking of potions that could kill us simply because we’re whiny, lovesick teenagers. God, that entire situation could’ve been avoided if they weren’t so stupid.
Aaron: 16 year olds aren’t known for being intelligent. Looking back… I was a dumbass.
Me: Obviously, since you didn’t realize you were in love with Rae.
Aaron: You didn’t even know us then. You don’t get to pick on us for that.
Me: Oh, I absolutely do. It’s a benefit to being a member of the cult.
Aaron: Fantastic. So things are good there?
Me: Wow, what a smooth subject change. And yes, they’re good. Reconnecting, getting the nursery ready, and some therapy for me.
Aaron: Good.
Me: *gasp* Are you saying I need therapy?
Aaron: Everyone needs therapy.
Me: So I’m learning. Anyway, thank you for checking in, but I’m going to ghost you now so I can spend some time with my man.
Aaron: Not sure it counts as ghosting if you tell me, but have a good night. I’d tell you to use protection, but that ship has sailed.
Me: [middle finger emoji]
Shaking my head, I flick my phone screen off, smiling to myself as I do. I never would’ve predicted the friendship that’s growing between Aaron and me, but it’s fun, and I’m grateful for it.
