Shrunk

I got to Dr. Deerhorn’s office and signed in but the secretary she had some bad news.

“Dr. Deerhorn’s daughter went into labor today so he isn’t seeing patients. However, Dr. Sheehan has offered to see his patients today. He left me a note for you to let you know that he actually recommends you see Dr. Sheehan instead of him, but if you’re not comfortable with that, I can reschedule you.”

I decided to meet with Dr. Sheehan since Dr. Deerhorn recommended him so I filled out my preliminary paperwork, turned it in, and waited. The secretary took me back to an office filled with earth tones and a soothing light. It smelled like roses and the chairs were made of soft leather.

“Dr. Sheehan will be here in a moment, please make yourself comfortable.”

The secretary closed the door and I stood in the office awkwardly. There was a chaise lounge among various chairs and I wondered if I was going to be expected to lay down during my session. I decided to sit in a chair instead because laying down just seemed strange. I wonder if Sean lays down during his sessions. Dr. Sheehan came into the room after a few moments and I was surprised because Dr. Sheehan is a woman!

“Faith, welcome. My name is Leslie Sheehan, you can call me by my first name or whatever makes you more comfortable.” She shook my hand as I took in her appearance. She’s a thin, blonde woman and was dressed in black slacks and a plum sweater. She didn’t look like a stereotypical therapist and I was kind of relieved by that.

“Thank you.”

“Dr. Deerhorn updated me on your case. This is your first visit, right?”

“Yes. Is there a reason he recommended you for me?” I asked out of curiosity.

“Well, it says in your paperwork that you’re here because you had a panic attack.”

“Oh, so you focus on anxiety issues?”

“No, Faith, I specialize in sexual assault and post-traumatic stress disorder.” She cocked her head to the side and studied my reaction.

“O-oh.” I said, shocked, “I wasn’t raped.”

“Mmm.”

She looked down at my file to see if she had misread Dr. Deerhorn’s notes.

“Would like to see your file?” She asked.

I nodded and she handed it to me. Dr. Deerhorn’s hand writing looks like a toddler’s but I was able to make out “induced panic attack” and “sexually assaulted; triggered”.

“What does triggered mean?” I asked looking up from my file.

“A trigger is something that can cause a symptom of PTSD or an overwhelming emotional response. It can be anything. A smell, a touch, a song.”

“Oh.” I handed the file back to her.

“Do you want to talk about the panic attack you had?”

“I’m not sure if there’s much to say.”

“Well, what did it feel like?”

“Hell.” I wiped my hands on my knees because I was suddenly nervous, “I couldn’t breathe, my boyfriend said I kept apologizing, and I was shaking.”

“Do you know what caused it?”

“You mean what triggered it?” I asked. In hindsight I don’t know why I became so cheeky, I think it was a defense mechanism.

She smiled and might even have laughed too quietly for me to hear, “Sure.”

“My boyfriend…um…we were,” I started turning red and couldn’t finish the sentence. I looked down at my hands which were playing with my shirt at that point.

“I know it seems embarrassing, Faith, but you should know that I won’t judge you here.”

“He tried to take my jeans off and I freaked out.”

“According to your file you weren’t raped.”

“No, I wasn’t. My boyfriend beat the shit out of the guy before he had the chance.”

“Good.” I looked up from my hands, surprised. Dr. Sheehan had a content look on her face and raised her eyebrows at my surprise.

I realized that she specializes in treating sexual assault victims and has probably heard a lot worse than what happened to me. It made me like her more; it can’t be easy to hear women describe their rapes day in and day out.

“It was an ex-boyfriend.” I said, “He was drunk.”

“Which time?”

Our eyes met and I realized she knew more about my assault than I realized. I only glanced at my chart but it was all in there.

“Both?”

“You seemed pretty okay after the first time, right?”

“I didn’t have a panic attack, if that’s what you’re asking.” I got really defensive and sounded like an angry teenager. I’m embarrassed by my behavior in hindsight. I crossed my arms and sat back in the chair.

“What are your goals for therapy, Faith?” Dr. Sheehan showed no signs of annoyance at my behavior.

The question caught me off guard, “What?”

“What do you want to get out of this?”

“I want to communicate my needs better and I want to be able to have sex again without throwing up in a paper bag or sobbing hysterically.”

“And?” I looked at Dr. Sheehan with a confused set of eyes. She set aside my file on an end table and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees.

“How do you feel about what happened to you?”

“Pissed. I’m angry because I finally got Kevin to leave me alone but he’s still controlling my life and causing problems with Sean. I wanted freedom and he took that away from me, so I’m pissed.”

“If you want to do therapy, I can help you feel like you have control over your life again along with the goals you outlined. The thing is your goals aren’t going to come until I help you get your control back.”

“Okay.”

We talked about some more logistical things, like how often I’ll see her and how long we think I’ll be in therapy, if I want to try medication (I don’t) and other boring things. I like Dr. Sheehan and I made a personal note to myself to not be so full of ‘tude the next time I visit her.