Week 31 Truth: Discuss the most frightening moment of your life to date
[Follows THIS (link NSFW) and THIS. The shrink is an NPC who lives in my head. Remy LeBeau (acesupyersleeve) used with permission. Backdated to March 3, 2009, because I suck. :P]
By Tuesday morning she was less sore than she'd been the previous Thursday, but not enough to drive or dress herself. It was frustrating and she was crabby, but she let Remy drive her to her apartment and help her get dressed - gray pants, white blouse, gray jacket - then drive her over to the psychiatrist's office.
The redhead behind the desk looked up as they entered. "Can I help you?"
"I'm here for an eleven o'clock appointment. Aryn Wakefield."
"Yes, I have you right here." She looked up with the sympathetic smile all receptionists learn to give. "You can go ahead in, Ms. Wakefield; Dr. Morton is expecting you."
"Uh... thanks."
"I be right out here, cherie."
Aryn nodded, giving his hand a squeeze as she leaned up to press a kiss against his cheek. Turning, she made her way over to the inner office, rapping her knuckles against the door's cherry finish.
"Come in." The brunette seated at the desk looked up as she entered, and stood to shake her hand. "Dr. Liz Morton. You must be Aryn."
"That's me."
She gestured to the brown leather couch and Aryn folded herself onto it as the other woman took the chair across from her, yellow legal pad settled in her lap. "How are you feeling?"
"A little sore, still. But... it's better." She thought of her reflection in Remy's bathroom mirror that morning - her chest an ugly (but considerably less vivid) purple under the flourescent lighting, dotted with splotches of yellow. "The bruises are fading."
"How about sleeping. Any problems? Nightmares?"
"Yeah." Aryn sighed. "It's so stupid, I didn't even get that hurt."
"Is getting hurt the only reason you think it should bother you?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I knew the risks... it just feels stupid to let it get to me this much when I wasn't even hurt that badly."
"I understand that this was your first experience with an emergency." Aryn nodded, and her stomach tied itself into a knot as Dr. Morton scribbled some notes down on her pad. This was the part she'd been dreading. "You don't think that could have anything to do with it?"
And there it was - her attempts at avoidance effectively shot to hell.
"I..." Aryn looked down at her hands. "Yeah. It could. Does." She shook her head. "Something."
More notes. "Tell me about what happened."
"I don't really remember much. That's why it's so stupid that I'm letting it bother me. I -"
"Tell me what you do remember."
She sighed. "The captain said to prepare for landing, so Mike and I strapped into our jumpseats at the front. We were talking, about my boyfriend. We'd had a few problems around Christmas, but... we worked everything out. He was meeting me for lunch, and Mike teased me about it a little; he does that sometimes. Then... I don't know. We touched down and there was this... really loud snap and this godawful screeching. We jerked backwards and I hit my head on the bulkhead and then... " She shrugged. "It's all a blank."
"Does that bother you?"
"I guess...? I mean, what if it had been worse?"
"What if it had been?"
"I wouldn't have known anything about what was happening to me."
"That bothers you."
"Well... yeah. Who doesn't want to know what's happening to them and do something about it?" She watched as more notes were scribbled down. Her stomach churned. "That's bad. Isn't it."
"Do you think it is?"
"No. Maybe. I don't know." She sighed. "I love my job, but I keep thinking about how lucky I was, and how much worse it could've been, and I'm afraid that's all I'll be able to think about when I get in a plane again."
Dr. Morton put down her pen and looked at her. "What I'm hearing is perfectly normal for what you've been through. You're bothered by being unaware of what's happening to you, I suspect because you see it as a lack of control. So losing consciousness, even for those few minutes, was enough to upset you."
She had a definite point about the lack of control; having every major thing in her life dictated to her by her parents had warped her world view on a lot of things. This was probably one of them.
"As for the rest of it," Dr. Morton continued, "it's normal to think that just because something bad happened this time, it'll happen next time too, and next time you might not be as lucky. People do it with everything from car accidents to plane crashes to a myriad of other things. What you have to think about is how many times you've done it before this with no incidents. In nine years, how many flights have you attended?"
"Wow. Um..." She couldn't even count them all. "A lot."
"And there's never been an incident until now. You told me you knew the risks. They're the same now as they were before; there may never be another incident, or there could be several more. It's not what happens, but how you deal with it that's important. You can let it make you stronger, or you can give up."
She was right, of course, and Aryn knew it, she just hadn't wanted to deal with it. She was borrowing Remy's method of forgetting (or trying to) and hoping it would go away. But Paris had taught them both that his way didn't work. And after all she'd gone through just for choosing this career... letting something like this take it away from her would be giving up.
And Aryn "Stubborn" Wakefield didn't give up.
Player: Aryn Wakefield
Fandom: Original Character
Word Count: 960
By Tuesday morning she was less sore than she'd been the previous Thursday, but not enough to drive or dress herself. It was frustrating and she was crabby, but she let Remy drive her to her apartment and help her get dressed - gray pants, white blouse, gray jacket - then drive her over to the psychiatrist's office.
The redhead behind the desk looked up as they entered. "Can I help you?"
"I'm here for an eleven o'clock appointment. Aryn Wakefield."
"Yes, I have you right here." She looked up with the sympathetic smile all receptionists learn to give. "You can go ahead in, Ms. Wakefield; Dr. Morton is expecting you."
"Uh... thanks."
"I be right out here, cherie."
Aryn nodded, giving his hand a squeeze as she leaned up to press a kiss against his cheek. Turning, she made her way over to the inner office, rapping her knuckles against the door's cherry finish.
"Come in." The brunette seated at the desk looked up as she entered, and stood to shake her hand. "Dr. Liz Morton. You must be Aryn."
"That's me."
She gestured to the brown leather couch and Aryn folded herself onto it as the other woman took the chair across from her, yellow legal pad settled in her lap. "How are you feeling?"
"A little sore, still. But... it's better." She thought of her reflection in Remy's bathroom mirror that morning - her chest an ugly (but considerably less vivid) purple under the flourescent lighting, dotted with splotches of yellow. "The bruises are fading."
"How about sleeping. Any problems? Nightmares?"
"Yeah." Aryn sighed. "It's so stupid, I didn't even get that hurt."
"Is getting hurt the only reason you think it should bother you?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I knew the risks... it just feels stupid to let it get to me this much when I wasn't even hurt that badly."
"I understand that this was your first experience with an emergency." Aryn nodded, and her stomach tied itself into a knot as Dr. Morton scribbled some notes down on her pad. This was the part she'd been dreading. "You don't think that could have anything to do with it?"
And there it was - her attempts at avoidance effectively shot to hell.
"I..." Aryn looked down at her hands. "Yeah. It could. Does." She shook her head. "Something."
More notes. "Tell me about what happened."
"I don't really remember much. That's why it's so stupid that I'm letting it bother me. I -"
"Tell me what you do remember."
She sighed. "The captain said to prepare for landing, so Mike and I strapped into our jumpseats at the front. We were talking, about my boyfriend. We'd had a few problems around Christmas, but... we worked everything out. He was meeting me for lunch, and Mike teased me about it a little; he does that sometimes. Then... I don't know. We touched down and there was this... really loud snap and this godawful screeching. We jerked backwards and I hit my head on the bulkhead and then... " She shrugged. "It's all a blank."
"Does that bother you?"
"I guess...? I mean, what if it had been worse?"
"What if it had been?"
"I wouldn't have known anything about what was happening to me."
"That bothers you."
"Well... yeah. Who doesn't want to know what's happening to them and do something about it?" She watched as more notes were scribbled down. Her stomach churned. "That's bad. Isn't it."
"Do you think it is?"
"No. Maybe. I don't know." She sighed. "I love my job, but I keep thinking about how lucky I was, and how much worse it could've been, and I'm afraid that's all I'll be able to think about when I get in a plane again."
Dr. Morton put down her pen and looked at her. "What I'm hearing is perfectly normal for what you've been through. You're bothered by being unaware of what's happening to you, I suspect because you see it as a lack of control. So losing consciousness, even for those few minutes, was enough to upset you."
She had a definite point about the lack of control; having every major thing in her life dictated to her by her parents had warped her world view on a lot of things. This was probably one of them.
"As for the rest of it," Dr. Morton continued, "it's normal to think that just because something bad happened this time, it'll happen next time too, and next time you might not be as lucky. People do it with everything from car accidents to plane crashes to a myriad of other things. What you have to think about is how many times you've done it before this with no incidents. In nine years, how many flights have you attended?"
"Wow. Um..." She couldn't even count them all. "A lot."
"And there's never been an incident until now. You told me you knew the risks. They're the same now as they were before; there may never be another incident, or there could be several more. It's not what happens, but how you deal with it that's important. You can let it make you stronger, or you can give up."
She was right, of course, and Aryn knew it, she just hadn't wanted to deal with it. She was borrowing Remy's method of forgetting (or trying to) and hoping it would go away. But Paris had taught them both that his way didn't work. And after all she'd gone through just for choosing this career... letting something like this take it away from her would be giving up.
And Aryn "Stubborn" Wakefield didn't give up.
Player: Aryn Wakefield
Fandom: Original Character
Word Count: 960