"Essie! Essie! Earth to Essie. Are you here, girl??" Lucinda sounded annoyed. Luckily, the tone didn’t carry to her face which was a good omen. You did not want to be on her bad side, at least Essie didn’t. She was shaking her head. "How you go off into those trances, I will never understand. I hope it was at least an exotic island or handsome stranger. You have a phone call... line 3."
Essie shrugged, managed a sheepish smile while picking up the phone. "Hello." She sat back holding the telephone away from her ear and let the caller vent. Attorneys were like that sometimes. She believed it was their strategy to take control of negotiations and intimidate new adjusters. She never listened. She’d discovered the best response was to let them rant and get it out of their system. At least that is what worked for her. Afterwards they could usually talk calmly and rationally. She made a face at a Lucinda who had looked up noticing her phone acrobatics.
After hanging up from the call she picked up the file she’d been studying before being swept away into the past. What was it that reminded her of that day? It was so long ago. She wasn’t even that person anymore. At least she didn’t think she was. She shook her head and tried to focus on the pages in front of her. It was a little easier now. She tried to shake off her nonproductive mood and began to read hoping the letters would form words this time instead of blurring into another daydream.
She needed to call with a settlement offer by tomorrow and she hadn’t even made it through all the medical documentation yet. Half of it was bogus anyway. Not for the first time she wondered if those legal beagles ever went through all the paper they sent. I mean, do they really think we’ll pay for her pap smear and birth control pills? Her nutritional consultant? She shook her head in frustration. Do they think we’ll use those expenses to evaluate the case? The world of an insurance claims adjuster was full of those days when the world seemed to consist solely of greedy, dishonest people looking for the easy road to beat the system. The system was working hard for what you earn not being given it on a silver platter. Oh well. Try to tell that to attorneys who manipulated and bent the system any way they could to get their fee. Even trial attorneys were guilty. They did anything to get their client off even when they knew they’d be better off cooling their jets in a lock-up. It wasn’t for the client really. It wasn’t for justice either that was for sure. It was for the win. That seemed to be all that mattered. She grimaced. She hated the way the legal system was developing but knew she had to stop putting her head in the sand... being an ostrich. The world wasn’t the way she wanted it to be. She needed to accept that and adapt. Survival depended upon a reality check. "Hey..at least I have a job. I can pay my bills.", she reassured herself. Readjusting her glasses, she straightened up in her chair and soon lost herself in soft tissue collars, swollen cervical tissues, crushed discs and chiropractic jargon.
Later that afternoon in an office off of State Street she sat patiently while her therapist finished up a phone call before starting her session.
"Sorry, I had to take that. Okay, Essie", Jackson Stone continued, "Are we going to try the hypnosis today?"
She looked uncomfortable but nodded. She trusted him. She’d been seeing him for awhile and truly wanted to know what was hidden inside of her, if anything. Why was she always so afraid? What had happened to make these memories surface now? They kept percolating up from deep inside of her. She seemed to be aware that she was being controlled by her fears, her subconscious? She didn’t understand any of it.
"Well, the thing is," she confided quietly "I remember this day that my mother told me she’d seen a neighbor stroking the inside of my arm." She saw it from the bedroom window. When I asked what she did she just said, "Well, I called you home. I didn’t want to frighten you. You were little, very young, a little girl."
"That didn’t make sense to me. It didn’t sound like my mother. There was some part of me that felt like she was trying to discover if I remembered the incident... like she was testing me. It just didn’t feel right in some part of my mind. I think I was probably about nine or ten when she told me that."
"Okay, well, we’ll use that as a basis. I want you to think about that conversation and keep it in your thoughts while we begin. Do you think you can do that?"
Essie looked into her therapists warm golden eyes. He looked concerned, almost worried but determined. He was always edging her forward, ever so slightly, but never pushing, never aggressive. She nodded her head warily.
"Shall I close my eyes?"
"No, not until I tell you to close them. I want you to focus on a section of the wall or a spot about 3 feet away and concentrate. I am going to talk to you and I want you to listen to my words and concentrate on that spot until I tell you to close your eyes. Then we will try to reach down into your memory and see if you can remember anything about that day. Now, why don’t you try to relax and get in a comfortable position. You okay?"
"Yes, fine." She wiggled slightly in her chair, leaned back and selected a section of the wall behind him on which to focus . The sound of his voice relaxed her as always. He had such a deep, resonate voice. Not as deep as James Earl Jones, but smooth and fluid. She closed her eyes following his instructions.
After they were done, Essie tried to explain what she had seen or sensed during the session. "The strangest thing happened when you started to talk or lead me, .. maybe guide me is the better way to put it. It was like I was in an elevator or dark tunnel going down ... very slowly. I sensed this presence just beneath the surface, my surface..... my physical form, with huge broad, hulking shoulders, almost like an eagle would have while perched or resting. This presence was watching and listening so carefully to your words and my response, almost like it was protecting or trying to protect me. A protector presence, maybe? Then I kept hearing a voice frantically calling out, "no!.. no!.. no!" like it didn’t want to go down there..didn’t want me to go ... not all the way down. The voice was scared.. the feeling I sensed was fear or danger. When we got there it was like I was in a hallway and there was a little girl, maybe three or four years old, leading me down a hallway around the corner and to the door to a room. She lead me where I needed to go to reach this memory. It was kind of eerie."
"What happened once you were inside the room?", the therapist prodded. "Did you go inside?"
"Yes. I was a little girl playing in a neighbor’s yard two houses down from my parents’ home. The man, the old man wanted me to go inside. I didn’t want to. I tried to say no but he grabbed my arm and kind of pulled or lead me toward the door. He was strong. He closed the door and wouldn’t let me out. He did things to me, molested me, on the couch down there in the cellar and then on the rocking chair. Someone came to the door and was asking about me but he sent them away. He told whoever it was he hadn’t seen me, that I wasn’t there. He wouldn’t let me leave. I was scared. Why, did he lie to them? Why wasn’t he going to let me go home? I wanted to go home. I remember trying to push him away and get away and then I just went limp... I just melted inside of my body. I think I remember saying , ‘If you put that thing in my mouth, I will bite it. I will bite if off.’
That part confused me because I remember saying that to the dentist once as a little girl. They had dragged me out from under a chair in his waiting room and made me sit in chair. I was scared, angry and knew he was going to hurt me. There was no way I was going to let him put that drill in my mouth. Anyway, that confused me.. saying the same thing to this old man. Was I confusing memories, did I say the same thing to both men or did the dentist trigger the memory of what had happened. I don’t know. It was just a passing thought during all of this."
Essie was surprised Jackson hadn’t stopped her at that point. He usually did when she wandered off topic. He didn’t this time though. He was sitting with one leg casually crossing the knee of his other leg with his palms together the tips of his fingers touching very lightly resting just below his nose. He seemed very focused and thoughtful. She continued her narrative.
‘I think my neighbor bundled me up later and put me in his car. He must have driven me somewhere and left me there. I don’t know where he took me. I remember it was dark outside and cold. I don’t like being outside in the dark. I’m frightened of the dark. I don’t know how my father found me. He found me alone with my sled. Well, I don’t know if he found me or the police called him. I think he and my older brother and sisters were out looking for me.
I do remember at some point just looking up, almost like I had just woken up and I saw my father pulling my sled and some of my sisters and my brother were walking on either side surrounding me. I was on the sled and I felt safe. It was like I was encircled by them, by my family, and I was safe."
She looked at him hesitatingly to let him know she was finished. She felt really shaky and anxious inside. It almost appeared to him that she had shrunk into herself.. into the form of a frightened, little girl. Her size seemed diminished. He’d seen it before. It never ceased to catch him off guard. How the human psyche could do that. Physically change size and mannerisms to match what a person was feeling, experiencing internally. It made him angry. It always did. That other human beings could do this to each other. He swallowed, tried not to let his emotions show and master some control so he could continue to be impartial and clinical in order to complete her session. That was one of the reasons he periodically scheduled time off so that his profession didn’t swallow him up. It could. It did that to many psychologists and psychiatrists. Probably did that to law enforcement people too. You see the underbelly of life, so much heartbreak, broken lives and a sour testimony of what human nature was capable of, man’s inhumanity to man in all its rawness. You needed a respite.. a time of rest and revitalization so you didn’t drown in the pain or, on the other side become immune. That was his greatest fear. When you stop caring and feeling, you begin to die. It can be a very long and drawn out process.
"Okay, Essie. That was great. You did really good. Now, I want you to tell me on a scale on one to ten, how safe do you feel now? I don’t want you to leave the session feeling uncomfortable or anxious. Can you give me a number on that scale?"
Essie looked over at him. He’s got to be kidding, she thought. How safe would you feel? How calm would you be after dredging up all those emotions of a scared, vulnerable pre-school child at the hands of a sick old man? "Um, I don’t know. It is difficult to say. Maybe ‘7' with ‘10' being very anxious."
"Okay, then I want you to close your eyes and imagine you are back in that yard and room... back in your neighbor’s basement. You are not the little girl. You are yourself as you are now. I want you to consider what you could do, how you could respond to him when he tries to hurt that little girl with you watching. I want you to show that little girl that she is not alone and she has someone to protect her. He cannot hurt her anymore. He cannot hurt her with you there and you will always be there. Now, relax and tell me exactly what happens."
"He is trying to lead her, tug her toward the door. She struggles and leans forward and bites his arm. He is angry. Now the woman is yelling at him telling him to let go of the little girl. The neighbors hear her and start to come outside to see what is going on. The little girl darts across the yard, down the driveway to the sidewalk and home. The woman is still yelling at him".
"Do you feel safe.. in control?"
"Yes, I’d say about a ‘9' now. I’m okay.", Essie lied. She just wanted to make it easier on him. She didn’t think anything was going to make her feel safe right now. She just needed to be patient and allow her emotions to process it internally. She always dreaded the time after a session. She felt so vulnerable, emotional and fragile. Exposed. That described it best. She usually picked up a coffee and drove for awhile listening to the radio before going home. Then she’d snuggle on her couch and try to feel as safe as she could in her little cocoon, her sanctuary.
Recovery was such a solitary journey. Noone could do it for you or help you with your emotions. Sometimes that part seemed wrong. Unfair. She hadn’t done the damage to herself so it was kind of like a double whammy. That wasn’t going to change no matter how unjust it was. Noone could make it better, only you. Maybe in time she would see it as self-fortifying. She hoped so. She pulled into Dunkin Doughnuts for her follow up therapy.
