“And then…” She let out an exhausted sigh. “My boyfriend kept information from me about some break-ins around town because he thought I couldn’t handle it. And I can’t even be mad at him because he was right. One hint of trouble and I’m right back to being terrified.”
“Let’s separate these issues,” Dr. Diaz suggested. “First, returning to protective behaviors during periods of stress is extremely common with trauma recovery. It doesn’t mean you haven’t made progress.”
“It feels like failure.”
“Recovery isn’t linear. There are steps forward and back.”
Joy sighed. “Bear said almost the exact same thing.”
“Ah, Bear. The Bollingers are pretty wise as a whole.” Joy wasn’t surprised to find out Dr. Diaz knew the Bollingers. Everybody in Oak Creek knew them. “But let’s talk about him withholding information. How did that make you feel when you found out?”
“Angry,” Joy admitted immediately. “Hurt. Like he doesn’t see me as an equal. Like he thinks I’m too fragile to handle basic truth.”
“Have you told him that?”
“No. I was too busy proving him right by freaking out and sleeping in my playhouse.”
Dr. Diaz’s laugh was gentle. “So, he thinks you’re fragile, and you’re worried he’s right. But you’re also angry that he sees you that way, because somewhere inside you, you know you’renot permanently fragile. Those are opposing feelings—and they always will cause conflict.”
Joy blinked, considering that. “I guess so.”
“So, taking out the protective behavior of wanting to sleep in the playhouse, which one feels more true to you overall right now? Do you feel more that you’re broken or fragile or whatever label you want to give it, or more that you’renot?”
Joy thought about the night before—how instead of freezing when the break-in happened, she’d taken inventory. Called Callum. Stayed calm. She thought about the food truck festival, the success of Velvet Mornings, the way she’d been rebuilding her life piece by piece.
“I’m not broken,” she said finally, the conviction in her voice surprising even herself. “I’m healing. Maybe I’m not doing it perfectly, but I’m doing it.”
“That sounds accurate to me.” Dr. Diaz’s voice held a smile. “And I would encourage you to continue doing the things that make you feel like you’re healing.”
“Like what?”
“Let’s start with your food truck. When were you thinking of rolling out Velvet Mornings in Oak Creek?”
Joy grimaced. “Honestly, I don’t have any set plans. It’s ready. I just need to do it. I was thinking sometime in the next month or two.”
“Why wait that long?” Dr. Diaz asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You just said it was ready. What are you waiting for? In a couple months, we’ll be in the dead of winter. Why not now?”
Joy admitted the truth. “Velvet Mornings is different from what people would expect from me. I think I’m a little nervous.”
“Is the food good?”
“Hell yes, it is.” That much, Joy knew for certain.
“Then I think you should do it sooner rather than later. Get it out there as soon as you can so that anxiety doesn’t have a hold on you anymore.”
“Let me think about it.” Was she really ready? She’d talked to Hudson about reducing her hours, but could she do this?
“Deal. Ultimately, you know yourself best. Listen to yourself.”
“Okay. I will.” That meant having to trust herself. But that was the point, wasn’t it?
“That’s all you can do. Would you like to come in for a proper session? I know you probably don’t think therapy is your style, but I think you would find it helps. I have an opening Tuesday morning.”
“Yes,” Joy said immediately. “I think I would.”
