Page 103 of Patiently Yours
Ciro laughs. “We didn’t really have time to, doc. There was so much to discuss already.”
Dr. Jenson flashes a look of surprise, clearly taken aback by Ciro’s lightheartedness. I crack a laugh myself just before the alphas join in. The glorious sound breathes life back into the room.
“Sorry, Doctor. It’s been a long day,” Atlas apologizes, although he’s finding it hard to swallow his own amusement.
“That’s okay,” he responds, finally cracking a small smile at us. “I’m glad you have such a good support system, Stacia.”
I give him a happy nod. “So, my options? What are they for?”
Atlas clears his throat. “We talked to the nurse a little about your dissociation, and we all thought it would be beneficial if you started going to therapy.”
“A therapist that’s also a psychologist,” Dr. Jenson adds. “So you can see them for a while, figure out what exactly triggers your dissociation, and discuss potential treatment plans.”
The thought makes my stomach churn, but I think that’s because therapists weren’t talked about very highly in my house growing up. In fact, psychology as a topic was seen as extremely taboo. That kind of makes sense now, though.
“I’m not really sure how to find a good therapist.”
The doctor grins. “We have very good resources to help refer you. And, if you find that it’s not a good fit, we can always find someone else. But, I’d like for you to consider it before we discharge you.”
I nod, looking at the floor as the doctor keeps talking. I almost zone out, but then I feel a small squeeze around my hand. I look over at Uriah, who’s looking at me like I’m everything. It takes my breath away. He holds my hand firm in his, intending to keep me in the moment.
“Okay, let’s do it,” I agree while staring at my alpha. I feel more tears well up but blink them back. “I’ll go to therapy.”
“That’s excellent, Stacia.”
The doctor starts to discuss other things, like how to nurse my concussion and what I can’t eat for the next 24-48 hours because of my stomach being pumped. I’m listening, but I’m mainly taking in my mates. How they listen intently. Uriah is jotting down notes in his phone. It’s a sight to behold. I feel extremely lucky, both for waking up and for having the support that I do.
I am ready to do whatever I need to in order to keep them, no matter the consequences. They aremine, and I’m ready to claim them.
FORTY-NINE
Playing: She Used to Be Mine by Sara Bareilles
“Stacia?”
I blink a few times, my eye sight coming back into focus before I look around. I’m in a room that I’ve become quite familiar with these past few weeks. There’s a soft blue rug under my feet, and a sound machine in the corner that’s playing ocean waves on its lowest volume. It smells a bit like rose oil with a hint of descenter.
I meet the eyes of my therapist. She’s wearing a patient smile, her hands resting in front of her.
Therapy is different from what I expected. I actually look forward to my appointments. Mrs. Abrams is so kind and validating, even when I’m being closed off or insecure.
The first few sessions were hard. I spent a lot of the allotted time spaced out, not wanting to recall the difficult moments where I had felt the most out of control. She reminded me that we could talk about anything I wanted, or nothing at all. She also reminded me that honesty would help her figure out the best possible treatment plan possible.
So I told the truth.
I spoke about my parents and everything I could ever recall them saying during my youth. I recounted my entire relationship with Derek, all the way up until I finally called it quits and the harassment that started after. I told her about my scent matches and how it’s been a journey to accept them, because I ultimately felt like I was not worthy of their affections.
My memory from a few moments ago returns. I had just finished recalling my hospitalization. I explained that I didn’t remember taking any drugs or even leaving the restaurant after dinner. Only the pain on my mates’ faces when I woke up in that hospital bed.
I swallow roughly. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s no need to apologize, Stacia. It’s a difficult memory, one that you obviously want to forget. I’m honored that you shared that with me, thank you.”
I give her a solemn nod.
“I noticed that you used your senses to come back to the present. Has that method been helpful to you?”
“Yes.” The husk in my voice causes me to cough. “It’s been helpful, yes. I’m working hard on grounding when I feel myself slipping. My mates bought all kinds of essential oils so I can use them to ground.”
