Page 19 of Revelry (Cowgirls Do It Better #2)

Tate

“So, you wanted an extra session?”

I nodded. After weeks of spiraling, my OCD being worse than ever, I knew what I needed to do.

And that felt like growth, honestly.

Normally I would have just continued to spiral but this time, seeing the look on Gertrude’s face when I lashed out, it hurt me in a new way.

I couldn’t do that again. I needed help, and quickly.

“What happened?” Neil asked.

But just because I needed help, didn’t mean I could open up immediately. I was fighting a lifetime of struggle. I couldn’t just snap my fingers and suddenly be okay to talk about everything. If I was, then I wouldn’t need therapy in the first place.

I leaned back on the couch, mulling over my thoughts and staring at the peeling ceiling. Wanting to pick at the flaking plaster until the surface was smooth again. It was all out of order, some patches larger than others and different shapes. My mind drifted and I forgot where I was.

Neil heaved a frustrated groan. “You won’t try talking. You won’t try CBT. You won’t try meds or group therapy so why don’t we try ERP?”

“What’s that?” I asked, sitting forward, already knowing I would hate it.

“Exposure Response and Prevention Therapy,” Neil ticked the words off on his fingers. “It’s the gold standard treatment.”

A muscle twitched in my jaw. “Then why didn’t we do that in the first place?”

Neil shrugged. “Because it’s the last resort.”

I shook my head sharply. “No.”

“You haven’t even let me explain it yet.”

I slapped my thighs and stood up, pacing. “Let me guess, exposing me to things I’m OCD about – does that about sum it up?”

Neil gave me a chagrined look. “I forgot you were a smart cookie.”

I rolled my eyes, fighting a smile at his sass. I looked out the window onto the street, watching people go about their lives wondering how it felt to just get on with life and not be trapped by thoughts, rituals and urges.

“You’ve already nixed the idea but guess what, smarty-pants – we’ve been doing it for months.”

I bristled, turning slowly to face him. “What do you mean?”

He pulled off his glasses and started cleaning them with the hem of his shirt. “Every time you come here, I mess the room up slightly and make you sit in it and not give in to your compulsions to straighten the magazines or plump the cushions or line up the plants and coasters.”

“I hate it.”

“Exactly,” he beamed. “It teaches you that you’re able to cope with your anxieties without acting on your compulsive urges and performing your rituals.

But now you know what it’s like; I’m going to keep doing it.

Mainly because it’s my office and I can do what the fuck I want.

” I opened my mouth to argue but Neil held up his hand.

“I want you to try it at home, purposely.”

My mouth flapped. “No.”

“Do you know other words?”

“There are a few I’m thinking about saying right now, mainly four-letter ones.”

Neil barked out a laugh, then his expression sobered. “Please Tate. You need to get better if you want to live a healthier, happier life. We can create an exposure hierarchy together. So start small, like we have here, and build it up.”

I threw my hands up. “Fine, so now what? We just jump straight in?”

“Kinda yeah. Normally the first session would just be an assessment of your background, symptoms, when it started etc. But I did that a couple of sessions ago in preparation.”

“You did what?”

“Yeah, don’t you remember all my questions and your growly responses?”

My eyes bugged at him. “You lied about what it was for! You said it was a requirement of therapy!”

He shrugged. “It was, so that’s not a lie. It’s a requirement of ERP.”

I stared at him, flabbergasted. “How am I meant to trust you when you’ve lied to me? Multiple times?”

“I don’t know, Tate.” He cocked his head, narrowing his stare. “How about all the times you’ve lied to me?”

“That is…” My indignation trailed off.

He arched a brow. “Different?”

Sometimes, I really hated Neil. With his questions and logic.

“Fine, we’ve lied to each other. But no more, we need to build trust.”

Neil regarded me gently, nodding. “Yes, we do. You knew what I was like when you first started seeing me. I wouldn’t coddle you and I’d push your boundaries.”

“I know,” I whined, like a moody teenager. “So now what do we do?”

“We need to make a list of triggers for your OCD, the smallest to biggest. But first, let’s start with why you needed an extra session when your next one is in a week’s time. What happened that you couldn’t wait?”

I rubbed the back of my neck, my pulse pounding because I knew exactly what had triggered me and I didn’t want to talk about it for fear that I would spiral all over again.

“I, uh, saw my dad.”

Neil clucked his tongue and shook his head.

“And his kids.”

“You’re his kid too, you know.”

I snorted. “Not like they are.”

“Because he chose them and not you?”

I shoved my hands on my hips and squeezed hard. A slight jerk of my head.

“Then what happened?”

“I was with a…friend…and then after seeing them, I just spiraled. My obsessions got out of hand, all I could focus on was how imperfect the house was, how imperfect I was. I needed to tidy and straighten and make everything neat and perfect. And I haven’t…

I haven’t been able to stop the impulses since.

” I swallowed around the lump in my throat.

“And I hurt her. I scared her and I can’t let that happen ever again. ”

“Tate, please sit,” Neil gestured towards the couch.

I made my way to it and sat down. But it didn’t feel quite right, I didn’t sit down how I normally did. So I stood up and then sat down, slightly slower, like I thought I usually did but it still felt off. I stood again, slapped the cushion around a little to plump it up and then settled again.

It didn’t feel right but it was better than nothing and my cheeks flamed as Neil assessed me over the rim of his glasses.

“I think we know what your biggest trigger is, so why don’t we start with that and work our way backwards to create your exposure hierarchy.”

I rubbed my hands on my thighs, my palms damp from even mentioning my father and my feelings towards him.

“I think mess is probably a big one, I know you struggle with mess.”

“I do,” I nod, thinking back to Halloween when Gertrude hollowed out the pumpkin for me like she knew I couldn’t handle it. It had embarrassed me that I needed her to do it, but it would have been more embarrassing if I’d done it myself and then spiraled in a bar full of people.

Almost as bad as spiraling in the kitchen in front of her.

“What would you do if you had children?” Neil asked gently.

I froze. I had stopped thinking about the possibility of ever having a family because my issues would just make it impossible. I was convinced I’d make a terrible father and I hadn’t had a decent example of what a father should be like. The closest I could think was Tony.

“That’s not something I need to worry about,” I rasped, my voice struggling to get the words out.

“Because you don’t want children or because you don’t think you could cope with them?”

“The first one,” I lied.

One corner of Neil’s mouth kicked up. “I see we’re not past the lying to each other phase of our relationship.”

I blinked. “Are you a wizard?” How did he know?

He laughed again. “No, you’re just not that great at hiding your true feelings, even if you think you are.

But fine, let’s keep pretending it’s because you don’t want them.

I will say though, that being a parent forces you to confront things in a way that would probably help you.

Because there’s now something more important than how you feel. ”

“Tell my father that.” Bitterness dripped from my tone.

“Did his children look happy?”

The words twisted my gut. Raked over old wounds until my vision blurred. “Yes.”

There was a pause. Then Neil said, “I’m sorry this happened to you, truly.

Do you think you could ever forgive him?

Then you would be able to build a relationship with your family, as you have no one, Tate.

It must be hard not having anyone. And it sounds like he’s looking for some connection with you. ”

I shook my head sharply, a tear dropping onto my knee.

“Okay then. So, let’s keep going.”

We spent the next hour picking over every trigger and ritual I had and built the exposure hierarchy.

Everything from Harriet’s annoying gum-popping, to the TV or radio volume being on an even number, to untidy magazines in Neil’s office.

We built all the way up to the top end, the scary end which included heights, mess, and my father.

I promised Neil I’d start tackling them and update him when I overcame something, if I overcame it. I could try with the easier stuff, but how I would ever get to the top end, I didn’t know.