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“No.”
“How about walking?”
“Locally. Yes. Two or three times a week.”
“That’s great. It’s an excellent start. Tell me about what else helps you feel better.”
“Alcohol. Casual sex. Comfort food.” She looked Sage in the eye as though to test out whether she’d go into monologue lecture mode.
Trista had named the usual escapism suspects. So if she’d wanted to go for shock value, she’d fallen short. “We’ve spoken about this, and with your medical training, you understand that those strategies may reduce the emotional pain short term, but long term they cause more damage.”
The woman jerked up ramrod straight in her seat, her eyes wild with anger. “What the fuck am I supposed to do then? They’re the only things that help me forget, you know? They make me feel alive. Thirty minutes of peace is better than nothing.”
Trista’s wick, her emotional fuse, seemed to have burned right down to the base. Sage got that. And if she hadn’t had her own recent unsettling experiences, she wouldn’t think twice. Instead, every little change, any little escalation in a client’s behavior, had her on high alert, had that person pegged as a probable suspect.
But she shouldn’t focus on her own problems now, shouldn’t let them skew her professional objectivity. She needed to remain impartial. This was Trista’s session, and she relied on her psychologist’s skills. Sage had to toughen up her cracked resolve and try to redirect the woman into more positive practices.
“It’s normal to revert to quick fixes. However, I recommend more body and mind sustaining routines—continuing to meditate and increasing your exercise, enabling the two to become a new habit. Both have been shown to have great impacts on mood.”
Trista’s shoulders slumped. “I’m not sure I have the patience or motivation. Saying no to my emotional impulses, to instant relief, is almost impossible.”
“It’s not unusual, given what you’ve been through. Starting something new is always daunting. All I’m asking is for you to try. Even the tiniest step forward is a win. Your mind and body will thank you.”
Trista shifted in her chair, as though she’d sat on a bed of cold, sharp, piercing nails. “Fine. I’ll give it a go, but I’m not promising anything.”
“That’s okay. Let’s keep the weekly appointments to check your progress and discuss any limitations and setbacks. Same day and time suit?”
“I guess.”
“If you need to reschedule, call and let me know.” Sage’s lips lifted in her encouraging, reassuring, therapist smile. “Now, anything else you’d like to talk about before we finish for today?”
“Not really.” Which pretty much meant yes, but Trista wasn’t up to it, so Sage wouldn’t push. Not yet. Overwhelmed didn’t even fully capture the woman’s current mindset. She needed small, clear, simple tasks she could successfully build on.
Balance…Sage needed to ensure the right amount of challenge to enable Trista some victories while staving off defeat and processing grief.
They completed the suicide risk assessment with no obvious red flags, and finished the session, giving Sage about ten minutes to write the progress notes before Miles arrived.
She hit save, and reception buzzed.
“Miles is here.”
“Thanks. Send him in.” She clicked into Miles’ file and kept the monitor facing away from where she conducted the counseling session. Her standard practice.
A receptionist-warning rap alerted her, then her office door eased open. Sage walked toward it and welcomed Miles. “Take a seat.”
He did, his smile powering up to double the intensity of hers, his gaze unwavering.
She sat opposite and shifted a little farther back. “How have you been?”
“Good. Great. You’re helping me heaps.” He moved forward, nearer to her, closing the distance, his stare, his tone, like a full-on fan, a sycophant. Nothing unusual. He’d shown the exact same behavior almost from the moment they’d met.
The guy had projected onto her, reading into their professional relationship, seeing her intervention as so much more. And she’d let it go on too long. She hadn’t established and reinforced clear enough boundaries, thinking his initial infatuation might dissipate once they got chatting, once they got more involved in his therapy.
If anything, his attraction, his fixation, had strengthened—and she had to stop it.
“I’m happy to hear you’ve found the sessions useful.” Now, how would she break the re-referral news to him? Again. “I’ve thoroughly reviewed your notes, and I believe you’re ready for the next step.”
Lines of confusion slashed his brow. “The next step?”
