Creating a safe space is the first step in healing trauma

The Problem: Single incident trauma causing anxiety and panic

Initial Tools Used: Psychoeducation on how the brain interprets trauma and stress-relieving strategies, including mindfulness.

Rikki was back. When I saw her number on my caller ID, I smiled, recalling her quick wit and exuberant personality. I’d had a total of four sessions with Rikki to help her process job dissatisfaction and assist her in finding a different career trajectory (Therapy Toolbox Issue 669). In the six months since I’d seen Rikki, I wondered how her new administrative position was working out. Did she need more support in the professional realm?

We set up an appointment for the following week.

“Hi, Abby!” Rikki warmly sang out.

“Welcome back, Rikki.”

Rikki settled back into the same side of the couch she always sat, and immediately started fiddling with the small throw pillow next to her.

“How’s it been going since I last saw you?” I asked.

“So, the administrative hours I was given at school are amazing. I’m totally loving it. It was a bit weird at first, transitioning out of my teaching role into a new one. And a bit awkward with some of my colleagues.

“But it’s been fine since the first few weeks, so that’s good. I’m enjoying my teaching hours more than I have in the past, although not as much as I’m loving the admin work. I hope I’ll prove myself to the principal this year and she’ll have more administrative options for me for next year.”

“I’m so happy for you that it’s working! So…” I smiled expectantly. “If your career is on the upswing, what brings you to the couch this time?

Rikki giggled. “I know. Is it weird I came back to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, I came for one thing, and now I’m coming back for something totally different.”

“Not at all. I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to come back. That’s great.”

“Okay, phew,” Rikki said, mock wiping sweat from her brow. “So I’m here for something very different….”

“The suspense is killing me!” I laughed, but felt a more serious energy in the air and sobered up. “Take your time….”

“So, it’s really strange. Recently I, um, started to have some really severe reactions to stuff.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

“Like, it kinda came up out of the blue. But a few months ago, I had a small incident in the kitchen. A pot of oil caught fire. It was fine, except I’ve been having serious panic attacks since then.”

“Alright, can we back up a bit? Can you describe what happened with the fire?”

“I wouldn’t even call it a fire. It wasn’t so dramatic. I was making sweet potato fries, and I filled my pot with oil, got distracted, and then it caught fire.” Rikki’s face darkened.

“You seem a little nervous now. What are you feeling?”

“See, this is what I don’t get! I mention it and think about it and my heart starts to race and I feel like I’m going to vomit.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal! I’m so embarrassed that I’m reacting so extremely. Like, I even get nervous when I use that pot for anything else, and I haven’t attempted using a sweet potato since then. It was scary in the moment, but we were able to contain it, and just had some smoke on the backsplash. The only lingering thing was the horrible smell of burning oil.”

I nodded. “Something did happen,” I said. “A pot burst into flames. Your brain interpreted fire as danger, which it is, and you become fearful of fire. Does that sound crazy?”

“No.” Rikki paused. “But everything was okay in the end!”