Page 59 of The Barren Luna

After he left, Regina’s jaw tightened almost painfully. She looked around the room, unsure of what to do, but she soon selected a chair across from me and sat down, motioning for me to dothe same. I was somewhat amused at how she attempted to take control of the meeting.

“I must confess I have no idea about the kind of healing you do. Dylan speaks very highly of you, though, and I want to thank you for making the trip here so quickly. I don’t know where you normally reside?”

“I teach at the Medical School of the Shifter University in Massachusetts, and that’s where I live,” I told her and she seemed impressed by that. “No need to thank me, though. I rarely get the chance to meet a fellow mate killer, so I practically jumped on it.”

If she had been drinking something, Regina would have spat it out at my words. Her lips turned almost white and her throat quivered. I caught her off guard. Good.

“Did I hear you right?”

“Yes, unfortunately. My mate, Nicholas, had a rare neurodegenerative disease that affects less than 0.001% of shifters. He begged me to help him go when it was time, he said he was a wolf and he didn’t want to live like broccoli,” I smiled and sadly noted that the memory didn’t hurt so much anymore. “So I helped him.”

“You’re not a murderer,” Regina said with her fists clenched and her eyes wet.

“And you are?”

She seemed taken aback by the question, but there was a brief flash of guilt in her eyes that told me all I needed to know. Long before Dylan had contacted me about helping her, I’d read and re-read her trial transcripts so many times that I now knew them by heart. Yet, no analysis of the written word could replace simply watching her delicate features contort themselves in self-loathing. It was clear, three minutes into our conversation,that this female carried a tremendous burden on her young shoulders.

“As for the healing I do, it is the healing of the mind, through conversation primarily. Some wolves need the help of pharmaceuticals, but with your history of substance use and abuse, I think we’d better steer clear of that unless absolutely necessary.”

Again a brief flash of guilt. Again unwarranted.

“I’d appreciate that.”

“Okay, so maybe I'll tell you a bit about the work I do, and then you can ask me more about it afterward if you want?”

“That would be great,” she nodded, her whole body still rigid and on guard.

“After killing my mate,” she flinched slightly at my intentionally tactless and incorrect description of events, “I was in bad shape for a long time. That was twenty years ago. After several extreme episodes, I was sent to a big hospital far away from my then-pack, where I received therapy and counseling for the first time. It was life-changing. When I was well enough, I realized that I would like to do the same for others who were struggling.”

I was looking through the window as I spoke, but from the corner of my eye, I could see her leaning towards me, drawn in by my words.

“So, I spoke to my healer and she recommended going to study in the human world.”

“Wow, you lived among the humans? How was it?”

“Smelly,” I laughed, scrunching up my nose, and she joined me. “And loud. I actually had to do half of my program online – the laptop was less upsetting than being in the human world but harmful in a different way, so I alternated between the two.”

“Did you have a lot to learn from them?”

“I did. They devoted much more time to the study of the mind than we did. We rely on our wolf for many things, but in situations such as mate death, the wolf’s suffering actually becomes debilitating and drags the human down with it as well. What this form of therapy does, in a nutshell, is it gives you the tools to steer you into more positive or validating thoughts, to stop maladaptive patterns of thinking,” I saw Regina frown slightly, so I quickly clarified, “meaning thoughts that interfere with your daily living or ability to adjust to particular settings. It can also help individuals identify distorted thinking patterns, and change the thoughts that lead to bad feelings. So overall, it helps you feel better and improves your health, well-being, and quality of life.”

“That sounds awfully simple,” she said nonchalantly to mask her distrust of my words.

“It does, doesn’t it? Almost too good to be true,” I smiled at her. “Yet nowhere in my explanation did I say it was easy to achieve all that. In order to change those thoughts, one must identify and manage triggers, build healthy coping skills, and reduce feelings of anger, frustration, sadness, and guilt. Does any of that sound simple?”

“Not at all,” she replied quietly. “How would one do all that?”

“I would be your guide on that journey. First, we would work on establishing your goals for this process and determine what you'd like to see as the outcome of therapy. Then, you would need to gain a sense and understanding of the traumatic events that you’ve gone through, a realistic one,” I added as she opened her mouth to undoubtedly tell me she did have an understanding of what she had gone through.

“Sometimes we cannot see things for what they are if we are standing in the middle of them or too close to them. Sometimesa complete picture is visible only when taking a step back and observing from a distance.”

“Like not seeing the forest for the trees?”

“Exactly. Then, I would like to help you process those traumatic events, grieve your losses, forgive yourself, and give you the tools to live the rest of your life without fearing that something similarly awful would happen again.”

She blew out a breath and, for the first time since Dylan left the room, let her shoulders relax a bit.

“I’m not trying to be difficult -” she was clearly choosing her words carefully, the way a diplomatic Luna should. That was the first thing that needed to go in therapy, she'd have to be honest and direct. “I just – I don’t see how you could help me do all of that.”

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