TEN
I wear a mask to cover the broken and confused emotions attempting to escape the dark prison I’ve enclosed them in.
~ Savannah Bushard
“Hello, Savannah. How’s the week treating you so far? Did you get some rest using the exercises I told you about last week?” Jocelyn smiles.
“I’ve slept a little bit longer each night, but I…” I hesitate when my breath hitches.
I’m sitting in Jocelyn Fontneau’s office. The woman staring back at me with slight concern is coaxing me to channel my unspoken fears with her understanding and kindness. This is how it’s been twice a week for a month now.
“Take it slow, Savannah. There’s no rush,” she comments in a sing-song voice that soothes and comforts me.
“It’s the fear.” I squeeze my hands together. “I can’t…I can’t breathe, and I’m choking. Someone’s choking me. The blackness is almost…I’m suffocating, but it’s like I’m watching it happen.”
“Is there a face in your dream? Can you tell me who it is?”
“Everything’s black. It’s so dark. I…”
“Alright, Savannah. Let’s try something different. Lean back and close your eyes. Take some deep, cleansing breaths. Release the negative energy. Relax.”
I’m tentative and slow, uncertain of the direction she’s guiding. But I inhale deeply and close my eyes. I let it go and exhale, releasing all the tension and unease. My shoulder’s sag, and I loosen up a bit.
“Comfortable?”
“Mhmm.”
“Okay. Keep your eyes closed and focus on my voice. I want you to locate a happy memory from your past. One that brings an instant smile to your face.”
“Easy. The day Styx brought me to Lakeview.”
“Interesting. Why don’t you tell me about it?”
“I was nervous about moving here. Not because of Styx. He’s my man. It was the unknown. When we drove into town, he took me straight to the local hamburger joint Coney Island, raving about how awesome the burgers are. I was skeptical and kept thinking, Burgers are better in Texas, stud. ‘Cause everything’s bigger, ya know? Anyways, when we pulled up to this hole in the wall joint, I started laughing so hard I thought I would pee in my pants. He gave his trademark grin and ushered me inside. Then it was his turn to laugh at me.”
“True. If you aren’t a local, you have no clue what’s behind the big wooden door.” She laughs along with me.
“I’m happy to report Coney Island burgers rank up there with Texas burgers, sugar.”
“Good to know. Okay, Savannah. I want you to hold on to that happy feeling. Focus. Go back to the first moment of awareness from your dreams. The second you are conscious of your surroundings.”
I try, and a shiver works its way up my spine. The blackness approaches quickly.
“It’s so dark and someone’s screaming.”
“Keep going. Who?”
“Really loud. It’s painful to hear. Can’t breathe—I’m choking.” I grab the invisible hands squeezing my neck.
“Listen to me, Savannah. Listen to my voice. You are in my office, where no one can hurt you. You’re safe. Take a deep breath.” Jocelyn pauses. “One more.”
I follow her instructions and lower my hands to my lap, balled tightly into a fist.
“See, you’re not choking.”
“She’s still screaming,” I confess to her, frightened and alarmed.
“Who’s screaming, Savannah?”
Tears are flowing freely. My chest hurts from the pressure. It feels like I’m being buried alive and can’t dig my way out.
“It’s me.” I sob uncontrollably.
“You’re doing good, Savannah. Do you think you can focus on the person with you?”
I passionately shake my head back and forth. “Please don’t make me look.”
“Remember your breathing. We’re almost there, Savannah. Who is it?”
I take a deep breath and search the open space for a ray of light to lead the way. My dream wakens with a flash of light shining from a single bulb hanging above.
“I’m scared to look.”
“You’ve put a Band-Aid over the sore and haven’t acknowledged the problem. You’re strong, Savannah. You crave the truth and want answers. Focus, Savannah. Who’s hurting you?”
I take a deep breath and open my watery eyes, surprised by what I see.
“Oh, my God, it’s me in my dream. I’m the invisible person choking myself to death. How can that be? What does it mean?”
Jocelyn focuses on me and begins to explain, “Suicide dreams are very common in PTSD, Savannah. It’s your mind’s way of dealing with what happened and the depression you’ve succumbed to.”
Since I began the “journey of healing,” labeled by Jocelyn, I plummeted into a very dark place. During our first visit, she explained the five steps of healing. Anger and denial, depression, bargaining and acceptance.
“I don’t want to kill myself,” I whisper as the tears continue to stream silently down my reddened cheeks.
“No, Savannah, that’s not exactly what it means. You see, the mind is a magnificent organ, just like your heart. It can protect us when we need it. Not everyone deals in the same way. On rare occasions, a mind shuts down in order to rectify the traumatic experience a person encounters. Sometimes, people carry on with day-to-day life as if nothing happened, and then one day, snap, plunging into a mental breakdown. But you, Savannah, you are grieving.”
“What do you mean?” Confusion is woven into my sobs.
“Remember when we first started? I gave you the steps for the journey to healing?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been through the anger and denial. The feelings you have now are completely natural in restoring your life. Resurrecting the beautiful person you once were.” Jocelyn smiles.
“But I can’t go back to being the same person. I can never be the same.”
Jocelyn stands up and walks over to the couch, taking a seat right beside me, and takes my hand.
“Savannah, I’ve heard stories of the infamous Savannah Bushard. A fierce woman who could light up a room just by peeking in the doorway. You’ve just jumped the most difficult obstacle yet, by recognizing the meaning behind your nightmares.” Jocelyn squeezes my hand slightly. “You will be whole again. And, no. You may not be the same person as you were before. But you’ll be better. One day at a time. It’s all up to you now, sweetie.”
An invisible weight lifts from my slumped shoulders, and I audibly sigh in relief.