Page 16 of Ask Me Something

I’d never seen her look quite so amused. She wore a barely contained smile. “Sounds like Brian knows you and wants to ensure that you’re comfortable before starting something.”

“He knows enough, I suppose.” I didn’t think it was a fair statement to say he really knew me when he was in the dark about my anxiety, my therapy, or the traumatic trigger for it all. “I know he’s not purposefully messing with my head, but I’m all sorts of turned upside-down and can’t make heads or tails of anything.”

This time she didn’t bother to hide the smile. “I don’t think he’s messing with your head, either. If anything, it would appear he wants to ensure you are both very clear where this would go and what would happen. Those are two things that hold true in how we’ve done our behavior therapy. You picture the scenario, you imagine yourself in it, and you prepare yourself mentally. If you had slept together last night, I believe you’d be anxious right now thinking about what it meant, and what was going to transpire as a result of doing so. It sounds like he values your priorities and wants you to be certain.”

“He does and part of me has always wanted to, but then I overthink it and start worrying about what might happen.”

As she often did to ensure I didn’t get stuck, she changed subjects. “How is the anxiety at work? You mentioned the last time you were here that dealing directly with clients wasn’t easy.”

“It’s coming along. There are a lot of happy hours and wining and dining which are all outside my normal comfort level, but I’m working through the challenges. Wine helps.”

I had thought I was being funny but saw her eyes narrow. “Sasha, you pushing your limits is good. But I caution you not to bulldoze into things because you feel like you have to prove something to yourself or, worse, to anyone else. We’ve talked about this previously, and I’ve been very pleased with your progress. But remember to respect your disorder at all times. It’s part of your life, and if you start believing that you no longer have it, then you risk having a panic attack when you least expect it. You need to be mindful of your triggers.”

I took a deep breath. It had been at least a year since I’d had an attack, but one never forgot the feeling. And she wasn’t wrong about my need to push myself. I was a glutton for punishment when it came to refusing to accept the control anxiety could have over me. As a result, though, I sometimes made things worse for myself by forcing issues before I was ready to deal with them.

“It’s getting better, and I’ve learned to control it faster.”

“I have no doubt you’re controlling it faster. Look at your position and what you do for a living. But is your level of anxiety honestly getting better? Because I would venture as you’ve progressed in your career, it would naturally get higher.”

“I think anyone in my situation would have high levels of anxiety about proving themselves.”

She nodded and then changed the subject on me again. “I don’t disagree. I like the fact that in thinking about Brian you were distracted enough not to have your usual discomfort in coming home. But talk to me about why you’re hesitant to start something with him.”

I went with the most obvious reason yet again. “My career is really important to me. I’ve worked my ass off the last seven years to become the first female vice president at Gamble Advertising. But with that, I’m under a microscope. It may be part of my anxiety, but I can feel people wanting me to fail.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s true, for anyone in your position. People will be jealous or sexist or have whatever other reason for not wanting you to succeed. But do you feel like you deserved that promotion?”

Self-doubt was also a huge part of my disorder. “I do, most of the time. My biggest worry is that if someone were to find out about me sleeping with him, then they’d think that was why I got promoted. That it would invalidate all of my hard work.”

“So take me through that scenario. Say Brian makes you happy and you two get serious, maybe fall in love. Would there ever be a point where you would feel comfortable with other people knowing?”

“I don’t see that happening.”

“Why not?”

Because Brian was attracted to a woman who was self-assured and put-together. Not one who had to snap a hair band to keep from freaking out in social situations. I expelled an unsteady breath. “He may know more about me than most, and I may feel comfortable with him, but if he were to truly get to know me, he’d be disappointed.”

She put down her pen and studied me. “And there we come to the biggest fear you have, Sasha. I agree that your career is a valid concern. Anyone in your position would most likely feel the same, but the real reason for your hesitation is what you just stated. You don’t feel like he’ll accept you without the armor or that he could possibly love the real you. You’ve done a remarkable job in conquering your self-doubt with regard to your career, but you’ve hardly addressed it in your romantic life. I’d venture to say that you pick your career over love because there’s security in knowing you’ve been successful in it.”

“I hate it when you trick me,” I muttered.

She grinned. “It’s not as if you didn’t realize that already. You simply didn’t want to admit it. If you choose to embark on this relationship, I would strongly suggest you share more with him regarding your triggers and history Sasha. It would be helpful for the both of you, I think.”

I wasn’t so sure. “Do you think it’s possible to have a successful relationship with an anxiety disorder?”

She smiled kindly. “Of course I do. I see it all of the time. I could call around and find someone in New York if you’d like to talk with someone more regularly. It may help.”

“I’ll let you know if I need that. Thanks for your time and Merry Christmas.”

* * *

After my appointment,I drove down to the beach only a few blocks from my parents’ house, found my spot, and sat down to breathe in the smell of the salt water. The weather was chilly, in the forties, but the crisp, clean air felt good. Beaufort was a small coastal town, outside of the outer banks of North Carolina. Some people referred to it as the other Beaufort, since most people thought of South Carolina when they heard the city name. During the summer it had its share of tourists, either passing through or opting for a quiet beach vacation. But during the winter, it was all local residents. This was the time of year I liked the most as there was nothing like a deserted beach for soul-searching.

Pulling out my phone, I texted Brian. “What are you doing?”

“Calling you,” he replied.

I smiled when the phone rang immediately and answered, “Hey.”

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