I find myself on Doctor Delany's couch having yet another existential crisis two days later. It's funny how every single time the smallest change occurs in my life I practically stop functioning as a human being. This time, thankfully, it's not about something that Dastan's done, it's more to do with the fact that I'm sure something is definitely going on with me.
I thought it was an isolated incident when I woke up two days ago sick to my stomach over some nightmare I couldn't remember. Turns out I was wrong. It's happened every night since then, I still don't know what I'm dreaming about but I know it's affecting me. I've barely been sleeping, I'm forgetting to eat far more often, I dropped the ball on my last article and totally spaced on submission dates. Things aren't looking good and it's only been three days. So l, here I am lying across the leather couch in Doctor Delany's room, telling her all about Dastan as if that's the thing that's bothering me. She listens intently but I can tell she knows I'm diverting, talking about everything but what's on my mind.
"He hasn't said anything but I'm pretty sure Connor's upset about something," I tell her matter-of-factly. She crosses her legs, lacing her fingers over her knee and levels me with a stern look. I go on, simply so she doesn't get a chance to berate me, "I mean, I'm pretty sure it's got something to do with Dastan and I deciding to bury the hatchet but he's the one that told me we aren't dating and I can do whatever I want. So, I don't see why he's upset that I've decided to be friends with my ex again." I continue, I can feel myself working up to some kind of state. My breathing gets faster, my words slur together from the speed at which their racing from my mouth. I recognize that it's not an appropriate reaction to a minor inconvenience like this but I can't control it.
"Anyway, you're the one that told me to give Dastan a chance, to be his friend. Now I'm doing exactly that and Connor's mad at me and Emma and Haider are watching me like a hawk. Everyone's making me feel like I'm doing something wrong and ironically it's Dastan that's being nice and supportive. And I really just don't know what to do and if anything I just wanna lock myself in my room and not talk to any of them for the next six weeks." I finish on a huff, running out of breath at the end.
Doctor Delaney takes a brief moment to look at me, her eyes scanning for something in my body language. She's assessing me; I feel the cold calculation of her gaze brushing against my skin. She definitely thinks I'm crazy now, that's for sure. "Are you finished?" she asks in a flat voice, her eyebrow going up a notch on her forehead. I nod, still panting slightly. "Good," she smiles slightly, "Now, do you want to tell me what you're actually upset about?"
"I just did." I say indignantly. Maybe this is why Therapy didn't work out the first time around. Or maybe, Doctor Delaney and I just aren't suited to each other. Like you know how personalities can sometimes clash? Perhaps that's out problem, we've got incompatible personalities. Granted, that mostly applies to relationships but I mean I'm sure the same rules apply across the board, right?
"You know, we've been doing this long enough that I can tell when you're lying," she tells me. That's what I thought, but the problem is I don't actually now why I'm so upset. I know it has something to do with those nightmares but I don't remember any of them, so I can't be sure if it's even anything worth mentioning. When I don't respond after a long beat she pulls out her notebook and clicks her pen rather aggressively. My skin prices with irritation.
"The notebook?" I scoff, "Seriously?" She doesn't respond just keeps scribbling down notes. It makes me uncomfortable. What's she writing? Why is she writing it? Is there something that she sees that I can't? It makes me feel like a real nut job every time I see that notebook. "C'mon doc, is that really necessary?" I try again.
She shrugs, "If you're jot going to tell me I'm going to make my own assumptions, draw my own conclusions." She keeps scribbling furiously; she must have a lot of opinions about my mental state. I sigh, loudly. "You don't like it, start talking." She gestures to me with her pen.
"I don't know what to say!" It comes out a lot louder and significantly more aggressive than I would've liked. I clear my throat and go on, softer this time. "I'm not sure what the problem is, I just know there is one."
"That's where you start." She tells me gently, placing her pen down and linking her fingers over the pages of her notebook. Having her unwavering attention on me like this is unnerving. She gives an encouraging nod and I scrub my hands over my face and then turn my attention to point over her shoulder.
My eyes catch into the gold lettering on the spines of a navy blue book on Doctor Delany's bookshelf. I focus on that and try not to fidget while I speak. "I've been having nightmares, again. Not that they ever stopped it's just… well, I've been having vivid nightmares recently. They're affecting me. It's been a long time since I've woken up screaming or running to the bathroom to heave up dinner. I just don't know what's changed or why?"
She waits a moment before responding, the silence is pregnant with expectation. Mostly, on my part I'm waiting for her to call me a loon. "What are they about?" it's a simple question one that shouldn't be this difficult to answer.
I grit my teeth again the onslaught of emotions, shame fills my face and my eyes burn. "I don't know," I force out between clenched teeth.
"Do you think it's got something to do with Emma or Haider?" she hedges, "You mentioned them keeping secrets, do you think that might have triggered something?"
"I don't know." I grit my teeth harder, focusing a vast majority of my energy to stop myself from reacting emotionally.
She exhales, "Do you think it might have something to do with the change in your relationship with Dastan?"
"I don't know." I repeat, more forceful this time. I drop my head into my hands, and exhale a great huff of air. It stirs the hairs that have come loose form my ponytail to frame my face. My father's face floats behind my eyelids, as my head throbs with the sensation of holding back tears; the pain radiates all the way to the base of my skull.
"You do know," she says, making my head snap up. There's a quality to her tone that makes me think she's irritated or maybe upset. "You know."
"No," I say slowly, shaking my head. "I don't." We're just staring at each other now, it's almost like a battle of wills, to see which one of us snaps first. I have a feeling it's going to be me. As stubborn as I am, I'm also exceeding close to breaking. I know this, and so does she.
"Yes," She counters. "You do." I'm about to open my mouth to argue or tell her to stop wasting my time with this useless back and forth. "Kiera," she interrupts and the way she says my name has the words evaporating into the air beyond my lips. "You do know, everything that happens in your nightmares that's all because of you. Everything you think, everything you know, even all the things you've forgotten is all still there inside your mind." She nods in my direction, "Take a breath, focus and tell me what it makes you feel. Not the physical sensations but the emotions. What are you feeling?"
I take a breath; can I really figure this out? I close my eyes, swallow down my reticence and focus all my energy on the electric current humming beneath my skin. "I feel alone." That's vague. I try again, "There's something missing. I feel like I'm drowning, and there's something out there that's going to save me only I don't know where it is. It's like I keep looking for it, whatever it is, but it's dark and cold and nothing makes sense. Sometimes I think I've going it and then everything just slips away again, I get pulled under and I'm lost." My heartbeat drums in my ears, "Sorry, that doesn't even make sense."
"No," Doctor Delany says hurriedly, "Keep going. Tell me more about the drowning."
"Uhm, okay…" I give her a hesitant look, and clear my throat again. "It's difficult to breathe sometimes, especially on days when I wake up from those nightmares. At first, I'm terrified. I don't know why but I feel like I've just broken the surface and taken my first full breath of air. Other days, the feeling persist. I'll spend the entire day on the edge just barely keeping my head above water and it never goes away…"
"Kiera?" When I look at her again, she's watching me expectantly. Her hand poised over her notebook as if she wants to start making more notes.
I exhale roughly, "It's nothing, and I just realized I've never actually admitted this out loud before."
"You talk to Emma about how you feel all the time, don't you?" she asks, and there's genuine confusion in her voice now.
"Yeah," there's a pause. A silence so defeating it rings in my ears and I speak just to make it go away. "I talk to Emma about everything but not this. Emma's been through a lot but she's normal, she isn't like me. She's not broken."
"Why do you think you're broken?"
"Because," I hesitate again. How much of this should I actually reveal? The whole point of therapy is to air your dirty secrets so; it stands to reason I should be honest. "Because things don't affect me like they should. I can go head to head with a gang member accused of murder," she visibly starts at this but I don't let her get a word in. "Long story." I add off-handedly. "But in moments when I have to be vulnerable it's like the worst thing in the world. I don't work. I'm not good for the people around me and I've been waiting for them to figure it out. Everyday feels like a game of waiting for the other shoe to drop."
Doctor Delaney mods like she's finally figured out some long standing conundrum, "You're afraid their going to leave you." She states. It's not a question but I feel the need to answer.
"I'm afraid of losing them." I shake my head at her, "I'm afraid that I'll lose them the way I lost my parents and Tommy. I don't think I could deal with anymore loss. That's what those nightmares make me feel. They make me feel like I'm losing something." Like I've already lost something, I add silently. It feels like something important and every time I open my eyes after another nightmare I feel like a vital piece of me is gone. Missing, lost; forgotten.