PTSD

67. PTSD

🤍🖤🤍 Natalie 🤍🖤🤍

It’s been a few days ever since Dad insisted he will drop me to school. He didn’t outright ban me from seeing Jacob. But I got the gist in his disappointed look when he caught me sneaking into the house on Saturday morning. He dislikes Jacob, so it’s better to avoid him in front of dad to let this matter cool off a little.

We are avoiding each other at home, but try to catch up at school. Sometimes we barely meet for ten minutes before heading home, and occasionally he joins me in the library for our free time.

The unannounced ban only applies to Jacob, so June has been visiting me and Amy often these days. My face goes hot whenever I try to imagine if she knows I and Jacob were together that night. Not that we did something sordid. It was just an innocent kiss. But blush whenever I think about it.

After that kiss, despite being as short and sweet as it was, everything has changed. There is a thrill and anticipation in the air. I look forward to meeting him every day. I was embarrassed when I leaned in for the kiss instinctively. But now I’m high on the proximity we had that night. Too high to regret anything.

Now that I know he is into me, I can sense he treats me differently. So many things make sense now. I feel dumb for not noticing it sooner. He often takes in how I dress. I feel self-conscious even if a little skin is showing.

“Why are you even waiting for a week? If you know you love being around him. Go and sleep with him already!” Ira had asked me yesterday.

I didn’t tell her that going physical with him is off the table. He needs some time to bond first. This detail felt too intimate to share with Ira. It should have been off-putting for me, but surprisingly, I am not even bothered. For some reason, I am excited that we will take our time before going further.

I plan to say ‘yes’ to him after the Quarter Marathon, I am participating in, on Sunday. I could do it sooner, but something is stopping me. I like his company. But It doesn’t dismiss the real reason I avoided dating during the remainder of school session. I still have an inkling of doubt about how things will work out once our college life starts.

….

Jacob is busy with his hockey practice, and I am going to see my school counselor. I have my appointments on alternate days this week. I vaguely told her about my freak-out incident on Friday. I was embarrassed when she tried to coax if something serious had happened. I clarified it happened for no particular reason. To my relief, she dropped the matter and gave me a freaking long questionnaire. Yesterday she told me I have early symptoms of mild PTSD.

And I found it severely embarrassing.

What did ever happen to me to have fucking PTSD?

“Prolonged harassment or bullying can do that.” She had told me.

I didn’t tell anyone, but I am sure she has shared the results with Mom and Dad. There is little to no privacy in such matters if you are underage.

“Will I be fine?”

“Yes… But you need to take your psychodynamic and group therapy seriously.”

In short, I need to talk.

I need to talk to her. I need to talk in group sessions where people share similar experiences. Share and listen is the gist of my therapy. I don’t like the idea of talking about it. But I have little choice. I know Dad will send me to my professional therapist if I don’t follow my school counselor's plan.

To be honest, I am much happier to attend my school counselor for fifteen minutes twice a week than to see that judgemental therapist for an hour session every week.

Group therapy, On another hand, I don’t even know how I feel about it. I am not happy that it will be a two hours group session every Saturday afternoon.

Two Freaking Hours!

……

I am about to enter the student waiting room to meet the counselor when I bump into West. He opens the door for me. But I freeze in my spot, noticing the faint bruising on his face.

“Quit the act, Natalie… Enter.”

He probably mistook me for freezing on the spot for the reaction I gave him last Friday. I wish I could tell him I wasn’t acting then and I am not acting now. Instead, I choose to stay quiet and enter the room. My mind is now whirling with questions.

What is he doing here?

Bruising looks a few days older. Did something happen over the weekend?

His coach probably sent him here. There is no way he would come to a counselor by himself.

“I am not following you around, if that’s what you are thinking. I have a life, you see.”

My throat goes tight. I shouldn’t be upset. I know this hot and cold is West’s typical behavior. But I cannot help but wonder if this is why he was trying to talk to me?

Or did this outburst happen after I refused to talk to him?

I am trying so hard to keep my eyes away from his face. It doesn’t help when I realize his arm is probably hurt, too.

It’s none of my business. I won’t show him that his injuries bother me. So I stay silent and don’t answer his insult. To my relief, the school counselor calls in West first and I am left alone in the waiting room.

I hate myself when I realize I still care for him. Why I am wondering if he is alright. He has his friends. He has Riley. It’s a positive thing that he is here to meet the counselor.

I don’t need to be fucking concerned about him.