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I sit on the chair by the bed, wondering when everything got so complicated. I feel like there hasn’t been a time in my life without obstacles.
A minute later, my phone rings. I answer it when I see it’s Klara calling.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Arrow. I wanted to call instead of text if that’s alright with you.”
I smile at her professional voice sounding so different from the one my memories have shown me. Klara was as wild as my brother and me. We loved her thick British accent, and the way she would use swear words without meaning to in front of us. She was professional but still made us comfortable enough to be our childlike selves around her.
“That’s fine with me. Can you help me find a way to cope with these things? I feel like everyone around me is moving on and living their life while I’m stuck in a perpetual cycle of reliving my past.”
Silence meets me for a moment, but I wait patiently. She’ll do this sometimes, where it takes her a minute to formulate what to say. I can’t remember if it’s something she used to do, or something she started so that she could appear composed at all times.
“When our minds process trauma, they can do it in a few different ways. Ma taught you to forget, and she provided you with a safe space to do so. Now that things are coming back, theycan be harder to deal with because they feel fresh. When this happens, try to focus on the memory for a minute.”
She tries to continue, but I cut her off.
“How am I supposed to focus when they happen at the worst of times?”
“I was getting there.”
A child-like huff leaves my lips, causing her to chuckle.
“Some things never change.”
My lips lift ever so slightly as I cross an arm over my chest, waiting to hear the great words of wisdom.
“Go on,” I encourage, implying I will try to not interrupt again.
“Focus on the memory only long enough to put it into the right timeline. Compare it to all the ways you’ve grown since that moment. Then, leave it in the past.”
She says it as if it’s such a simple process. Two steps, that should be easy enough, right?
“What if it comes up again though?” I shift uncomfortably in my seat, not sure I really want the answer.
“Each time the memory comes and you face it, they will catch you off guard less frequently.”
She sighs, but not in a way of disappointment, it’s almost as if she wishes she could take the burden from me. Her care for me feels almost as powerful as Ma’s was.
“You know that saying, fear stands for two things. Forget everything and run or face everything and rise?”
I nod as I answer her tentatively. I know the saying, and I try so damn hard to rise and push past it, but that doesn’t feel like enough anymore.
“Yes.” I don’t understand.I’m not afraid, I’m stuck.Or am I afraid?
“Well, it’s not that simple. Rising makes it sound as if it goes away with the snap of a finger. It doesn’t. Fear of our past, fear ofour trauma requires much more than simply choosing to stand again.”
“And what is that?” I sit forward in anticipation. Looking at my problems from the black hole that is my trauma and fear, it would be foolish to attempt to rise without help. I know there’s no way for her to give me a ladder, but I can’t build something out of nothing. I need her to hand me the tools so that I can craft my own way out.
“Recovery. Time. Patience with yourself.”
Sitting back, I rest my head against the back of the chair.
“Any tips to fast track that?” I ask with a little humor in my voice.
She giggles lightly, and I find myself smiling. Therapy sucks. Asking for help fucking sucks. But this woman makes it better. She meets me where I’m at and holds out her hand until I’m ready to move forward.
“Unfortunately, no. But finding things that bring you joy will help. When you were with Ma, was there something she did to help the both of you find peace? I can’t imagine that life on the run was easy, and yet you didn’t grow up to be hostile or hard. How did she help you find that mental patience with yourself?”
