“Fucking hell.” I shift in my seat, completely irritated that he’s making me undergo more therapy with another deck from R1 Discovery. “These stupid cards make me feel like a pathetic?—”
“You almost assaulted some guy at the mall yesterday,” Bradford cuts me off, his eyes icy beneath his black cowboy hat. “You fucked up, Martin.”
“He was in my space, and I wasasserting my needs,” I reason, folding my arms across my chest. “You know, part of that wholedefense mechanismbullshit we learned about last week. That’s a healthy coping mechanism, according to your cute little cards. I even laughed afterwards. It’s part of not taking life too seriously and all that.”
Bradford doesn’t react, his expression unmoving. “Assault and battery are not an assertion of needs. Youcommunicatewith your mouth, not your fist.” He taps the deck of cards. “Quit acting like a fucking toddler. Get control of your emotions.”
I don’t say anything as Bradford arranges the cards on the table, and I let my mind run back to the cabin, before I asked for help—before I ever had to be talked to like a fucking five-year-old having a tantrum. Back when I still hadher.
Fuck, I miss you, Em.
“Pick a people trigger, a place trigger, and a situation trigger. Then pair it with the emotion it makes you feel,” Bradford’s harsh tone cuts into my daydreaming. He steps back as I flip through the stupid fucking cards, reading them each one by one. He gives me a few minutes to finish.
This is so fucking stupid.
“Okay, Martin, which three did you select?” He asks me, looking nearly as bored as I am. “State the trigger, acknowledging it applies to you using‘I’statements, then state the type of trigger it is, and the emotion you would pair with it.”
I sigh out an irritated breath, holding out the first card. “I don’t like being shown disapproval or criticism,” I glare up at him. “Criticism is a situation trigger. It makes me feel shame, as if I can’t handle something.”Like going to the mall.
“Uh huh,” Bradford smirks at me. “Keep going.”
I toss that card down and pick up the next. “I don’t like shopping malls. This is a place trigger. They make me feel…” I pause, and then shake my head as my chest tightens. “They make me feel fear.”
“Great realization,” Bradford deadpans. “Next.”
“I don’t likeanypeople. That’s a people trigger.” I shrug, leaning back against the couch. “I pair this one with anger.”
Bradford nods, letting out some sort of incoherent grunt.
My jaw clenches. “You know what?”
“What?” Bradford scoops up the cards.
“I definitely won’t be punching anyone in the face at the mall now. These cards just saved my life. Thanks. Really fixes everything. You’re a miracle worker.”
Bradford chuckles. “Here’s a question for you. You’ve got the target in the crosshairs. What do you do before you squeeze the trigger at the range?”
I make a face at him, already knowing we’re going somewhere deep. “I wait until I’m halfway through an exhale, then increase my pressure on the trigger just a little.”
Bradford closes the box of cards. “Why?”
“Because my aim will be steadier, I’ll shoot truer.”
“Hmm,” Bradford tosses the deck of cards back down. “And what happens if your aim isn’t steady?”
“I might miss my target,” I mutter, fighting the urge to roll my eyes.
“Right, and your purpose—your mission—is to hit the target. That’s correct?”
“Yeah, okay, Ghandi.”
He ignores my jabs. “But it’s satisfying? When you hit your target?”
My heart jumps at the thought. “Yeah, it feels really good.”
“Exactly,” Bradford shifts onto the heels of his cowboy boots. “So, in a therapy session, you have a purpose to get better. If something I say is critical, you’re going to feel shame. But you have a mission to accomplish, and if you pull that trigger while you’re still feeling the shame that criticism causes, it’s the same as pulling your rifle’s trigger on an inhale. You’re gonna miss the target of getting better because you fired too soon. Emotional triggers are just like your rifle at the range. You should wait to fire until the emotion has passed.”
“And if it doesn’t pass?”