Rosie's Thorns 🥀|18+|🥀

56 | Progress

⚠️ Mention of SA and miscarriage⚠️

The Contortionist ~ Melanie Martinez

《¤Rosie¤》

"The 333 rule." She began as she pushed her glasses up once more.

"The 333 rule?" I ask tiredly.

I haven't been sleeping. Whenever I close my eyes memories and nightmares plague me. I'm left tossing and turning all night until eventually I'm just sitting on his couch staring at the little lamp he keeps on for me. When I'm awake anxiety eats at me, but when I'm asleep fear swallows me whole. There's no escaping them.

"The 333 rule is a technique used during anxiety attacks. First look around yourself and need three objects." She gestured around us.

I let out a sigh and looked around myself. "Chair, books, um... a coffee mug?"

"Good." She praised with a small smile. "Now name three sounds you hear."

I blinked at her as silence wrapped around us. I strained my ears and listened intently. "A car driving by, um... the hum of the vents, our breathing?"

Her smile widened. "Good. Now the third and final one. I want you to move three body parts."

Obeying, even though it felt awkward and useless, I flexed my fingers, turned my head from side to side, and then rotated my shoulders. "Like that?"

She nodded, visibly pleased. "The 333 rule, may or may not help, but it has helped some patients of mine. Give it a try the next time you have an attack. It also may help with panic attacks. Everyone is different, but I believe the 333 rule will be useful for you. You told me you want to try to stay away from medication, so this is one of my recommendations."

I nod and pick up my own journal she'd given me in the beginning of our session. I made a note for myself for later.

"I also recommend finding a hobby or even a few minutes of light exercising. Taking a short walk or doing something that occupies your mind may help. What is it you enjoy doing?"

"I used to read." I admit as I pick at my nails.

"What did you used to read?"

My cheeks flushed as I pressed my lips into a thin line. "Oh, you know. Romance and um... occasionally fantasy or paranormal."

She lifted a brow at my reaction, but didn't press further. "Were there any other hobbies?"

"Um." I scratch my arms as I thought back to my youth. Before my schedule had become endless and tightly knit, I used to write short stories or poems. I started when I was twelve. I called it free therapy. "I wrote."

"Do you ever think about getting back into it?" She tilts her head as she writes something else down in her notebook.

"I never had time before."

"Do you have time now?" Her eyes flash up to me, holding me in place as she evaluates me.

Do I? I'm not a Donna anymore. I don't even have people to lead. My social status is next to non-existent since I disappeared and I wasn't about to make an appearance any time soon. I have enough money to stay on a short hiatus. What would I even do after I make my existence known again? Suddenly I felt lost. If my family wasn't controlling my every move, then I was forced into the Mafia business. Which wasn't something I'd wanted to begin with. I never had the time or freedom to choose what I wanted to come of my life. Now that I could, I felt lost and empty.