Page 15 of Across the Universe

"She seemed surprised by the question, but we had an interesting conversation."

“How did it go?”

Bill moves around in his chair until he’s comfortable. “It started with her telling me she’d always known that she wanted to be a mother, and that marrying a good, kind man had been her lifelong dream. She said I made both dreams come true, and I wanted to take that as her full answer, but I knew that wasn’t the assignment.”

“Wonderful.”

It’s just a one-word response, but it’s encouraging, and Bill goes on. “So I asked her if she’d had any other goals or things she wanted to accomplish since we got married, and she said that sometimes she felt like she was meant to do more than just take care of a house and children.”

“And how did that make you feel?”

Bill thinks for a moment. “Like I didn’t really know her. I’d always felt like Jo was happy with me—with our life—but in that moment, I wasn’t so sure. I thought maybe I was married to a stranger.”

Dr. Sheinbaum doesn’t visibly react, but she reaches for her notepad and pencil and scratches something on it. “Did you ask her what those things were that she thought she might want to do?”

“I did. She said she thought she might have wanted to be a nurse, so volunteering at the hospital helped to scratch that itch—that was her phrasing.” He taps his knee with his fingertips. “And then she realized at some point that she wanted to write and tell stories, but then she discovered as she wrote that she was the type of writer who just likes to see what comes out as she’s working.”

“Meaning she doesn’t go into it with a full plan in place?”

“Exactly.” Bill pauses, remembering the betrayal he’d felt when he read Jo’s column in the magazine and discovered how much of their lives and their marriage she’d called on for inspiration. He’d wanted to encourage her to do something that he saw as a little hobby, but he’d never intended to be fodder for her work. “I think she just takes whatever is going on in her head or in our lives and uses the writing to work through it. If that makes sense.”

“It does.” Dr. Sheinbaum takes off her reading glasses and looks at Bill. “Does that bother you?”

Bill laughs softly. “You know it does.”

“How do I know that?”

“Because you’ve probably already got me pegged, Dr. Sheinbaum. I walked in here and you thought: Military. Astronaut. Tough guy. Won’t let anyone peel back his layers.”

She watches him quizzically. “Okay, you know yourself best, so I’m assuming that’s a list of howyousee yourself, and not necessarily what you think others see in you.”

“No,” Bill says, shaking his head. “I think that’s pretty much what people think when they see me.”

“Aren’t we all more complicated than just a list of characteristics or job titles? Do you see me and think: Woman. Never married. No children. Went to medical school. Must hate men and conventional life?”

Bill stares back at her. That is precisely what he’s assumed about her. Instead of saying so, he lifts one shoulder and lets it fall.

“Okay,” Dr. Sheinbaum says. “I want to know something else about you. Something that no one sees when they meet you and think: Military. Astronaut. Tough guy. Tell me something that would be hard for a stranger to know.”

Now, this is asking a lot. It’s really uncomfortable for Bill to think of divulging something personal about himself in this way. He can feel his legs twitch, and he wants to close his eyes and then open them and find himself somewhere else—anywhere else—than in a psychiatrist’s office.

“You want me to tell you something I think is a secret?”

It’s Dr. Sheinbaum’s turn to shrug. “Not necessarily a secret, just something you reserve a bit and don’t announce to the world when you walk into a room.”

Bill hesitates, but just barely. “I had some really hard times in Korea.” The words are out now, and he can’t pull them back. He sighs, feeling like he’s just set down a weight that he carries with him at all times. “And sometimes I still think of it and have a rough patch.”

Dr. Sheinbaum’s nod is slow and careful. “That’s understandable. War can be very traumatizing for anyone involved.”

Bill sits forward a bit in his chair, finally looking right at her. “But shouldn’t there come a point where I can move on from it? Shouldn’t I be able to get past those little things that set me off? It’s been over a decade now, and sometimes I still need to just walk away from whatever I’m doing, find a quiet place, and shut myself away from the world. I can’t afford to do that, Dr. Sheinbaum. There will be times and places that I cannot just walk away, find a closet, and close the door on the world. I need to be better than that.”

Dr. Sheinbaum sets her notepad on the table next to her and looks at Bill seriously. “There have been many, many accounts of soldiers coming back from war and experiencing flashbacks and nightmares, Bill. We often use the term ‘shell-shocked’ to describe the debilitating feelings that people experience after war, and that doesn’t have a time limit. In fact, it could go on for the rest of your life.”

“I can’t live like this for the rest of my life,” Bill says vehemently. “I can’t shut out my family and go into a dark space mentally like that.” As he speaks of these episodes, the words flow, and his shame over the whole thing vanishes—at least here in Dr. Sheinbaum’s office. “How can I stop it?”

The look in Dr. Sheinbaum’s eyes is one of sympathy and understanding. “You can keep talking to me about it for one. It’s been proven that talking in a therapeutic setting is one way to take away the shame or the bad feelings that surround these memories. We can take it slow, and you can either tell me what triggers your episodes, or we can lead up to that.” She reaches for her notepad and pencil again. “And a really important thing that you can do for yourself is to learn when you feel the most vulnerable, and then gird yourself from the onslaught of whatever might trigger you. You can do some deep breathing exercises, and—just generally—you can take good care of yourself. Make sure you’re eating, sleeping, getting exercise. Are you doing all those things?”

“I eat well,” Bill says, thinking of the meals that Jo prepares for him. “I wouldn’t say that I get a lot of intentional exercise, and my sleep is hit-or-miss, depending on the stress of work and home.”

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