Page 44 of Scoring the Player (Chasing Rings #2)

“Mm. That was really hard work. You know how we talked about how complex PTSD can lead to these fragmented selves or parts due to chronic trauma experienced during childhood or over long periods?”

I nod.

“And all of those selves of the psyche hold different, at times conflicting, memories, emotions, and behaviors?”

“Yeah,” I reply. “You said part of the trauma work is to integrate those parts.”

“Yes, that’s correct.” She pauses as I take a sip of water. “We just did some of that work today. I am so proud of the way you showed up.

“Our brains separate overwhelming experiences to keep us going. And these separate parts don’t always speak to each other, which makes it hard to know what’s in there and, in turn, how to regulate our emotions.

The abuse you suffered when you were young points to a wounded child inside of you who is now getting the healing he needs and deserves. How did it feel to be in his presence?”

I rub my ear. “Gross.”

“Gross. Hmm. You know, you felt angry that he was so afraid. I think what you were really tapping into is his helplessness. He was forced to hold so much pain and fear.”

My knee bounces under the table as pressure bubbles up in my throat.

“And no adult showed up to help protect him. He is so brave for holding it all. It’s not easy.

The relational and developmental trauma that he—you—experienced was complex.

You were punished for needing safety, connection, and love.

Your pain is not dramatic. The work that you have been doing to process it all is really difficult work. ”

“Isn’t there an easier way than this? Like a pill?” I ask.

“This is part of the work. Unfortunately, there isn’t a magic solution out there.

But work is being done to explore supportive avenues.

For example, I just read about a nonprofit that’s helping PTSD survivors access plants and other medicines, with the help of trained medical professionals, to revisit traumatic moments.

It isn’t FDA approved here in the United States, but there are clinical trials in places like Mexico and Peru that have had encouraging results.

I offer that to say, with more resourcing, we’ll continue to learn more ways to approach trauma work. ”

“Plant medicine?”

She nods. “We’re seeing funding for private clinical trials to treat post-traumatic stress disorder, depression, and addiction, using psilocybin and MDMA.

Again, it’s just an example. It won’t be for everyone, and it will be critical for this kind of work to be facilitated by trained professionals. ”

Wild.

“What do you think about us visiting him again in the future to help him feel safe and less alone? Of course we’ll move slowly here.”

I don’t know. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course. I want to know what else comes up for you after leaving here. We’ll do a check-in, but if you need additional support before then, you can call me.”

“Thanks.”

“You bet. Well, we started our session by discussing Aiden. Based on the exercise we just did, it is not surprising that feelings of rejection trigger core wounds. He reenters your life, pressing right up against them, triggering very painful feelings of shame, rejection, and unworthiness. What do you think?”

I scrub my hands over my face as the thought settles in. “So, you think it’s really not about Aiden? It’s about my parents?”

“I think it could be both. I don’t deny that he hurt you.

He was the first man you fell in love with, and when he turned you down and stepped back from your relationship, it was deeply painful.

You found a connection with him, and when you went to explore that connection, you lost it.

It may have triggered a core wound that love is not safe.

I am also following the thread of rejection and shame that started before him, and yes, with your family. ”

He’s six or seven years old…that’s long before Aiden.

“Damn.” I blow out a breath. “It always seems to come back there.”

“It is no small thing that you experienced. During critical developmental years, you didn’t have the safety or care that comes with an adult mirroring emotional regulation.

I am a trained therapist, and as you know, a CPTSD survivor like you, and knowing what’s happening in here”—she gestures to her head—“is just as much of a mystery at times. We can shoulda, woulda, coulda all day, but it takes healing, and nothing short of it, to understand what’s happening in here.

All we can do is practice grace and show up for our healing.

And I probably sound like a broken record, but healing is a practice, not a goal. ”

“How do I face Aiden? It’s like he dropped a bomb in my lap.”

“Admitting that he had feelings for you?”

I nod.

“Hmm. I think that will take some time to process, which we will continue to do through our work together. We need to get you regulated first. That’s the priority here. So, let’s talk tools to support you as we move to close out.”

I nod.

“Okay. You have a pad of paper and a pen?”

“Yeah.” I reach for both.

“Let’s come up with two to three things that feel really good for you with the goal of introducing calm into your nervous system every day.

I want you to spend at least five minutes daily doing one of the activities that we list. We’ll start with three,but you can add to the list. I just want to know what you’ve added when we meet, to ensure it’s actually restorative. Okay?”

I nod.

“You’re great at visualization exercises. So, let’s add a few. I want you to think about someone who makes you feel really good when you’re around them. And by good, I mean safe, seen, heard, like you can let your guard down, and if there’s joy too, that’s great.”

Salem.

“I want you to think of a memory with that person or visualize them sitting next to you. If it feels safe for you two to touch, go for it, but if you don’t want to be touched, just imagine them sitting with you. How does that sound?”

I think of the last morning at the cabin when we hugged goodbye. When he went to pull away, I held on longer, and he wrapped me up tighter. “Got it,” I respond.

“What else feels good?”

“My music, playing ball, writing.”

“Fantastic. One more?”

I gnaw on my lip. I haven’t had much of an appetite all week or the energy to do much, so I rule out food or going out. Except… “I don’t know if it counts, but Ty, you remember Sid’s fiancé?”

She nods. “I remember Ty.”

She remembers everything. Sid and Ty are famous, though. But she also remembered the unicorn bandage story I told her that one time.

“When my article came out, he heard from a couple of guys that they also struggle with stuff, so he’s putting on a night for us to, like, drink beers or whatever.”

“That sounds like an amazing way to be part of a community. Are you thinking of going?”

If she had asked an hour ago, I would have said I was planning to skip, but now I don’t know. “Maybe.”

“Remaining in connection with people we trust is hard when we’re struggling, but it really is healing for us.

Trust me. I can self-isolate like nobody’s business, but my therapist reminds me that we were never meant to struggle alone.

Healthy communities and societies lean on each other.

” She leans in slightly. “If you can, I encourage you to go.”

“Okay.”

“Alright, Arnaz. Again, fantastic work today. Really big work. Be gentle with yourself. Practice grace and compassion. Reach out if you need additional support. Okay?”

“Yep. Thanks, Zuri.”

“You bet. Let’s close out. Any thoughts or questions? And what’s one takeaway from today?”

I lean back and stretch my arms over my head. “I can’t taste vodka.”