2019-07-12 - It is Good to Like Your Therapist

The office is newly renovated, and still has that yet to be truly broken in kind of feel to it. There's no receptionist. So that means that Vivian has had to go with other ways to get people funneled through the office from front door to back in the privacy of her actual office. Once back there things are peaceful, quiet, there are plants and soothing, neutral colors. Two couches, two chairs, and a desk towards the back of the room.

Vivian herself is dressed professionally in a dark blue suit with a white shirt and matching blue heels. It'd be a power suit if someone were looking for the right term, but she wears it far too comfortably and casually for it to be any psychological warfare attempt.

Dressed casually for the early morning appointment, Easton looks like he might be headed to the gym after. He has on a pair of black joggers that taper down to a pair of olive green running shoes. His shirt is colorful for once, a fitted dark red athletic tee-shirt. He has a disposable cup of coffee in his hand from one of the local coffee shops as he enters her office. He looks around at the variety of seating before speaking, "Thanks for getting me in. Where should I..?" He knows, or expects, the answer is wherever he feels comfortable but still feels the need to ask. There are rules and procedures for everything in the corps and it's still a little disorienting to navigate even simple social situations without them at times.

"Where ever you'd feel most comfortable." It is, afterall, all about his comfort level. She gestures in the direction of the room, letting him make his choice on where he'd most like to sit. While he sorts that small bit out she moves towards the door to shut it, flipping a switch on the wall out of habit that probably turns on a light outside or locks a door. Something to show 'patient in'. "I see that you've already got yourself a cup of coffee, but if you want water or anything I've small bottles of it."

Easton takes a seat in a chair and smiles tightly at her. Without any prompting he informs her, "I think I mentioned this, but I'm required to see someone." His tone is much more serious than his 'outside voice', the jocular, loud and brash personality that is usually on display. He continues, "It's part of my disability discharge agreement." that's not the official military term but he tries to translate for the civilian doctor. He waves off the offer of water with a small raise of his cup, "Thanks, this is fine though." The brusque polite tone might indicate he is either eager to start, or eager to get this over with, hard to tell.

"You did, I believe." Vivian agrees as she picks up a notebook from her desk on her way to the other chair, settling in to slide out a pen. It's one of those click pens, and the sound of the click is heard before she makes a notation on the notebook. "I'm guessing by your demeanor that you are not a very big fan of therapy?" She folds her hands together, settling them on her notebook, studying him, "You're welcome to come sit here in silence for an hour."

Everyone knows that's just a trick.

"No, ma'am. It's not that." Easton looks at her intently and what she's writing and then admits, "Okay, it's not entirely that. I appreciate that this can be helpful for many people. I am just not sure I'm one of them." He smirks at the thought of sitting there in silence for an hour. He could probably do it, and might at some point, though he'd rather spend an hour not speaking at the gym or many, many other places.

"Therapy isn't for everyone." Vivian agrees with a nod, glancing up towards him with a faint smile, "Sometimes people need to talk, other times they don't. I hate to say that sometimes it's just handing over a slip of paper and someone is better for that, but it is also true. Sometimes no matter of talking will resolve an issue." She taps her pen against the notebook, "But we can figure out together if you are or are not someone that will find this process helpful. Were you previously seeing another psychiatrist?"

The lines on Easton's face relax slightly as she readily admits that it's not for everyone. Not that she's trying, but he's a fairly easy mark to manipulate in that way. He sits stock straight in the chair though, he nods at her statement about sometimes just writing a slip is better. "What if I just need a 'scrip for something to help me sleep at night?" Hey, if he's here he's going to at least try and make some good come of it. At her question, he again nods succinctly, "Yes ma'am." His eyes wander for a second as he comes up with, "Three different shrinks at least. None of them very helpful."

The request for something to sleep causes her head to tilt faintly, "I'd say we could try a few things, a combination of medication and meditation." Vivian makes another quick notation in the notebook. "Are you having trouble sleeping at night, Mister Marshall?" Since he brought it up, she's going to check that little box off in her head.

Easton exhales a bit too much at the talk of meditation. It's not exactly a snort but it's on the way to one. He agrees, "Okay." Geoff had mentioned meditation being good for learning control anyway and who knows maybe it could help if he really tries to do it, but his skepticism isn't exactly hidden. "Yes. I haven't slept well at all since I've been back." He sighs and says, "Okay, you don't have my file so let me get this out the way. I'm.. was in the Marines. I served multiple tours and got blown up on my last one and lost my left leg. I chose to take an honorable discharge rather than ride a desk or requalify on my stump. So, when I say 'back', I mean since the accident." He delivers the background quickly and without emotion. He doesn't seem hesitant to talk about it, more just wanting to control how it comes out.

"Are you seeing someone for PT?" Vivian wonders, a gesture towards the leg in question comes along with it before she uses that pen to make a few more notes on the notebook. "In addition to trouble sleeping are you finding yourself with anything else happening that didn't used to? Bad dreams, anxiety...sensitivity to noise and crowded spaces."

"Yea, I have regular PT at the hospital. It's good. I like my therapist, she's cute and mean. It's a good combo." Easton shows a little bit of his usual spark in talking about PT, his face crinkling slightly around the eyes. That mirth doesn't last long though as she starts to ask follow up question. He states almost by rote, "I don't have PTSD." He lets that hang before saying with a little bit of dark humor, "And I hope you know the answer to the question of 'bad dreams'." He looks at her meaningfully, knowing she hasn't been in town long, but she's certainly pinging his gut radar enough for him to suspect that she can 'see' him as well.

"It is good to like your therapist. Builds a bond of trust, because we both know that you have to be open and receptive to the suggestions that they make." Which might not be just the PT she's talking about. "So loud noises, crowds, anxiety...none of that is a bother?" She double-checks those answers before she starts to write down something on the notebook, "I could make an assumption about the answer to the bad dreams question, but I'd prefer to have confirmation from you so that I don't waste your time pursuing something."

A slow smile creeps across Easton's face as she talks about the bond of trust with his therapist. Yea, he gets it. The question about loud noises, etc. He frowns and reluctantly says, "Occasionally." He looks at her for a few moments trying to decide how much he wants to elaborate on that. "I get jumpy sometimes. But it's fine." For whatever reason he finds that harder to talk about than the dreams. Maybe because spooky Dreams that can kill him are a much easier threat to face. "Then yes. I have 'bad' dreams. Dreams where I'm reliving memories or twisted, extra fucked up versions of them, sometimes with people from this place, who weren't there." It's the first time he's sworn in the meeting, almost a record for him, but there's no heat behind the cursing. He then asks, "Do you.. have you experienced something like that here? Doctor?"

"Like the bad dreams?" Vivian wonders, making a single note on the notebook before she glances up at him, her hands folding together once more, "I've become aware of a little oddity in the town in regards to dreams, yes." It's an easy admission, of sorts. "I can give you a mild sedative for sleep, and something for anxiety. I'd like to explore both further in sessions, though, and I would suggest finding a meditative technique that you feel comfortable with. If you want I can give you a few ideas, and we can go from there." She shifts the pen in her hand, tapping it absently against the paper, "How are you coping with these dreams?"

"Yea." Easton prompts her and seems satisfied with her response. So she's at least aware of some of what he's talking about. He hoped Byron at least gave her a heads up, so good. "That sounds like a plan. I mean, I'm not wild about being on something all the time, but it might help?" Hee, okay he manages to say that with a straight face, but really what he means is he's worried it's going to make him lethargic and gross. "And I'm game for whatever medatative shit you want me to try." The last question causes him to actually think though. Booze and casual sex? That's probably the wrong answer. His eyes flick to the side as if to examine the fact that he's thinking in terms of right or wrong answers. He looks back to her and shrugs, "I don't know. Just getting on with life I guess?"

"Try clearing your mind and focusing on a single point of light, and allow that light to fill you with warmth. Work through that a few times a day, when you need a moment to sit down and recharge." Vivian suggests as she gets to her feet, moving back towards her desk to sit down, picking up a perscription pad to start writing on it, "Try that, and the sedative for sleep for two weeks, then we can see how you are feeling."

Easton slowly quirks an eyebrow as she starts to describe that method. He says slowly, "Oookay." He isn't really sure what that means but that's fine. As she stands, he snaps back to the moment and starts to stand as well. He accepts the slips and says, "Thanks, I appreciate that." He's willing to try lots of things. He gives a small shrug and says, "This was .. better than I expected."

"I'm glad that it wasn't worse than you were expecting, Mister Marshall." Vivian points out with a smile, clicking the end of her pen before she drops it back onto her desk, getting to her feet as well, "Two weeks from today, we can do it at the same time. Hopefully this allows you to get rest, which should also help with some of the anxiety."

Easton smirks at the comment, but doesn't feel the need to apologize for it. He agrees, "Yea, that sounds good. Thanks." He nods one more time and then heads for the door, actually finding himself hopeful that this might do some good for him. Maybe.

Always the hope, isn't it?