Love You Better (Better Love 1)

Dr. Joyner doesn’t ask this question with judgment, despite the fact that she was not exactly happy with my decision to independently attempt cognitive behavioral therapy. When she saw that I was determined, she warned me of the risks and provided me with some literature on how to effectively perform CBT. But she also made sure to state that she was not recommending the treatment. She’s been nothing but helpful, though, especially when I started making positive progress, and I am grateful for that.

“No. But my previous CBT exercises have been successful. I’ve noticed marked improvement. This is the first time in eight months that I’ve had an episode.”

“I want you to describe the episode for me,” she states firmly, and I take a breath and swallow.

“Okay. Yes. So, it started the same as usual. Sweating, rapid heartbeat, pounding in my ears. I tried to do a grounding exercise at first, but it intensified quickly, and I couldn’t focus. I started to feel like the room was shrinking, and then I started to get the flashes of memory. The curtains. The clothing. The voice. But this time, there was a new memory. The cologne. I was able to isolate myself in a bathroom where I threw up, and then did breathing and visualizing exercises until I was able to take medication.”

She steeples her brown hands under her chin, her red lips pursed, surveying me.

“The vomiting is new.”

“Yep. The scent of the cologne, it was so strong. Stronger than it should have been. Even after I was in the bathroom, after I’d vomited, I could still smell it. It was suffocating.”

“What do you think that means?”

“I think it’s a memory from that night.”

She nods again. “And how do you feel about that?”

“Kind of relieved, actually. I feel like it’s another clue? I know that we’ve moved beyond my quest for justice, and I have moved past that, but this feels like a step toward clarity. I’ll probably never have all the answers, but now I have one more, and that makes me feel powerful.”

“I like that you’re choosing to see it that way. Have the nightmares returned?”

“Twice,” I say, and I can’t keep the defeat from my voice. No matter how hard I work on controlling my fight-or-flight responses while I’m awake, I relinquish that power as soon as I fall asleep. “One Thursday night after the panic attack, and one last night.”

“There is a chance you will have more in the coming weeks, but it’s important to remember that this is not a failure. These nightmares do not mean you have regressed in your progress.” Dr. Joyner speaks this with conviction, and the tightness in my chest, the disappointment I’ve been feeling with myself, eases a bit. She doesn’t say things just to pacify me.

“I’m very pleased with how you’ve handled everything, Ivy. You did everything right in that situation, and you likely made the attack less severe.”

I take a deep breath and smile grimly. It’s nice to hear, but it’s a bittersweet kind of praise.

“Ivy. I need you to understand and accept that there will always be a chance that something will trigger a panic attack or nightmares. There is no true cure for PTSD or for anxiety. We can use what we know to manage the symptoms, but we cannot cure it.”

I jerk a nod and stare at my hands. I hate this fact. It never gets easier to hear.

“Ivy, I would like your eyes on me for what I am about to say, if you’re comfortable with it.”

I take two deep breaths and raise my eyes to hers.

“This is not a failure. This is not a loss of control. You are not a failure, Ivy. You are not out of control. I’d like you to nod if you believe me, and I’d like you to repeat that back to me if you agree.”

I grit my teeth and take two more deep breaths, letting the truth wash over me.

“This is not a failure. This is not a loss of control. I am not a failure. I am not out of control.”

“Thank you. How do you feel about our meeting?”

“Good. I feel mostly good.”

&nbs

p; “Do you feel you would benefit from a prescription to aid with sleep? I could contact your psychiatrist.”

“Not yet. I’ll email you if I change my mind.”

“Have a good day, Ivy.”

“Thanks, Dr. Joyner. You too.”