Second Chances. (WATTY AWARDS 2013)

Chapter 15: Can Your Hear Me Now?!

Chapter 15: Can You Hear Me Now?!

“It’s been four weeks, why isn’t she talking?” I demanded answers from Dr Roberts, the child psychiatrist that I’ve been taking Peasnie to see lately. I was rather angry by this, I’m leaving for tour next weekend; which we’ve had to postpone for a couple weeks, the tour manager understood and so did the guys. But that’s not the point; I need to know if Peasnie will be okay without me there by her side. She hasn’t left my side since the accident. If I’m in the shower she’ll sit outside the bathroom and wait until I’m finished. She can’t be away from me. She doesn’t talk, she isn’t affectionate anymore. When the guys come over she’s really weary of them like they’re complete strangers. She is extremely frightened when we go out together. Her only way of communication is through her drawings but even those aren’t the same anymore, she used to draw happy pictures and they were colourful but now they’re just black drawings that are always the same, very depressing and worrying. Peasnie refused to go to school again, she had a panic attack when she did so now she attends school at home but she has a private tutor that comes over everyday.

Peasnie sat there in the room that was full of bright colours and toys but she sat at the table with crayons and papers. She wore a black tee shirt over a white long sleeved shirt. She had on a pair of jeans and Converse. Her long blonde hair hung loose as she sat there. I felt for the poor kid, she’s just losing her mind. She has been having nightmares and wetting the bed. This poor kid who once was the bravest child I’ve ever met is now afraid of her own shadow. I just want to know what she’s thinking or how she’s feeling. I want to help her but I have very little time to make a breakthrough. I’m leaving her in the care of people she’s afraid of. I need to know she won’t spaz out and make me regret ever leaving her alone.

Dr Roberts pursed her raspberry red lips at me and crossed her long thin arms over her crest; the green blouse went nicely with her black dress pants. Her sharp blue gaze matched mine. Her long dark brown hair framed her face. By the way she was looking at me, I wasn’t going to like what she was going to tell me.

“Peasnie is experiencing something called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or PTSD, it’s not that common in children this age but it is common.” She introduced me to this disorder for the first time. I’ve never heard of it before. How can Peasnie have it? She’s only four, she can’t even be depressed.  

“It involves lots of stressors that cause panic attacks. These panic attacks can be as mild as a mini freak out to and serious as, ending up being hospitalized or death. Anything can cause a panic attack, a sound, a smell or a taste. This can be very major and serious.”  She warned me with a serious tone. Hearing that made me angry, I wasn’t angry at anybody, I was angry at the fact that Peasnie has to deal with this all alone. I can’t even empathize with her because I’ve never experienced anything like this. I had to fight away the frustrated tears and be brave again. My knuckled stung as I just smashed my fist against the brick wall through anger. I sighed a shaky breath and turned to face her. My gaze drilled into hers.

“Violence and anger are never the answer.” She told me, trying to head shrink me. I practically growled at her assumptions, she assumes I’m an angry violent person in front of my daughter I’m not. I’m a very peaceful person who’s trying to teach my daughter how to deal with life without violence.

“I’m never violent or angry in front of her.” I told her in a snarl. She nodded and made that ‘ah-ha’ expression.

“You’re suppressing your emotions in front of her. You’ve never showed her how to deal with anger or any of these negative emotions so she doesn’t know how to deal with them. She’s taking after you by suppressing her emotions.” She told me sounding very professional and smart using fancy terms and words. I crossed my arms over my chest and shook my head.