Episode #5: Overcoming Trauma #5 : Anxiety and Therapy

Jan,10 2026

<-#4: Overcoming Trauma #4: Letting it out

I woke up at 3 in the morning from an anxiety attack. It's not unusual for me, to be honest, but what is unusual is the reason.

I moved enough to wake John, who asked me what was wrong.

"Could you have gotten an STI?"

"I could have, which is why I got tested well before we began dating. I am fine. You are fine. I don't even have HPV."

"Oh, right. Sorry"

"No worries, get back to sleep"

But of course, I couldn't. I wake up at 4:30 to get ready for work, as my shift starts at 5:45. Don't ask why it's not 6:00 or 5:30.

It doesn't even start at 5:45, but rather, at 5:47, to be honest, but I have to be in scrubs in the ER at 5:45 to know which position I will be working in.

Usually, I am primarily in the trauma room and backup as a general ER nurse, but occasionally I have to do triage.

What's the trauma room, you ask?

The emergency room is for emergencies. The name says it all. Do you have an acute infection or a broken arm? The ER is the right place for you.

Do you have a slight fever for less than 12 hours or need your prescription refilled? Go see your doctor in their regular business hours.

But on the other hand, if you come in the ER missing half of your blood, and the other half barely holding on? Or your heart and/or lungs stopped? That's trauma.

In short, the ER is for people who are stable but might not stay stable for long.

The trauma room only has one role: stabilize a patient so that the ER can handle them.

I am riddled with anxiety, with trauma, and with emotional instability. How can I function as a trauma nurse?

Simple! What worries me is my family. My husband, my kids, and even myself. But not my work.

The people I treat, those I help save, and those we lose, they don't matter to me. I care about them as a nurse, but I have a complete separation from my personal life.

What happened to my husband and what is happening to my daughter, however, are not away from me.

Can my husband remain my rock? Can I be his?

Is my daughter's new lifestyle just a phase, or is she handicapping her future by choosing to be marginalized?

That's what keeps me up at night.

But that 12-year-old patient we lost after he was stabbed doesn't hurt my sleep.

Not because I am heartless, but because if I didn't learn to isolate myself early in my career, I wouldn't be a nurse anymore.

I decide to wake up and turn off my alarm clock. The odds of me getting any sleep in the next 90 minutes are as close to zero as possible. I grab my phone and leave the bedroom.

My clothes are always in the kitchen when I go to sleep. That's the compromise I have to make about waking up far too early for my husband.

I wear scrubs at work, but I can't show up in scrubs or go back home in them. They could carry pathogens and are a hygiene risk. If I need to leave the hospital grounds for any reason, I need to change back into regular clothes.

In fact, it's rare I don't change scrubs a few times during the day, especially in the trauma room where blood can fly.

I remove my pajamas and look at my clothes, all folded up on the table.

Tonight is warm, and I can hear the central AC trying to compensate but having a hard time finding cool air outside for the air exchange. I don't fully understand how it works, but when it's too hot, the AC struggles.

I pick up my fresh panties and hesitate for a moment.

Currently, I have removed all of my nightclothes, and I am about to put on my commute and evening clothing.

This means that I am currently naked.

Nadia explained to me the difference between the two words. Naked means lacking clothes. This is what I am. Nude is when you aren't wearing any clothes. Technically, I am also nude, but I didn't choose to be. I am just in a transition between two ticks of the clock.

Tick, I was wearing my pajamas. Tock, I will be fully dressed to get to work.

But what if I didn't chain the two events?

It was too early for coffee. If I take one now, I'll need another one far too early, and I will bust my preferred caffeine limits. I don't really want to wake up anyway.

It's also too early to eat. If I do get breakfast now, I'll be hungry sooner, and thus, will eat more and gain a fraction of a pound, and those do stack up.

I grab a dishcloth and put it on my chair. Sarah and Cassie use full towels at home, but I saw smaller ones on the chairs at Nadia's house.

I sat down and began doom scrolling, making sure not to produce any sound.

After a few minutes, I find myself ridiculous. Why are naturists enjoying this?

What is my daughter finding interesting in just, well, being nude on purpose?

I end up getting dressed, and eventually, after even more doomscrolling on my phone, half awake, I manage to eat breakfast, even skipping my coffee. I was awake enough and might need more caffeine later today.

On the commute, I think about my husband, but soon enough, I change into scrubs and celebrate that I am in the trauma room today.

Why is that something to celebrate? Because I am a darn good trauma nurse, and this is where I am the most useful. Bea, for example, is our best triage nurse. She can go through patients faster than anyone else with a higher accuracy and better bedside manners. Well, chairside manners...

The day flies by, with a few traffic accidents and only one shooting, a gang banger we actually saved. I managed to redo his paramedic-made dressing fast enough to save enough blood to avoid the need for a transfusion. That's rare.

We almost treated a pregnancy scare, but our OB consult deescalated and treated it in her department.

When I got back home, I got a text from John that he found a therapist to talk to after work and not to wait for him for supper.

I also feel like the house is a lot warmer than it should be. I crank up the AC, but the air from the vent is just, well, lukewarm.

I go outside, and the unit is working, but the air leaving the fan isn't very hot. I made a note of it.

By the time my kids get home, my daughter is happy that the house is warmer, but Kyle complains it's too warm until Sarah just tells him to remove clothes.

Of course it's her solution, and soon enough, I have two nude kids in the house, one girl doing homework and a boy resting until he can.

I do feel like this is getting out of hand, but we did say that rules should be the same, so I just roll my eyes.

Kyle needs help with a science question, but Sarah proposes to help him so I can prepare supper.

"Right, Dad will be late today", I tell them, facing a complete lack of attention or care.

It was planned for tacos, so I made tacos even if John isn't there for his part. I do refrigerate the meat.

Kyle once again drops some food, but this time, he has no clothes to stain, which is a relief.

I ended up sending him to the shower instead of having him change, and for once, he doesn't complain at all.

No, wait, that's not fair. This year, he gained a lot of maturity and complains a lot less.

John finally arrived, so I kissed him and prepared two tacos for him as both of his kids went to hug him.

I am almost jealous. When the kids arrive from school, they are exhausted, tired, and can't wait to get to their homework. Even Kyle, who just wants to unwind as fast as possible so he can be done with the homework soon after.

By the time John arrives, the kids have had time to get back on their feet, and now, think of hugging the new parent coming in. But where was my hug?

Don't worry, I still get plenty, just not an automatic one when I get back from work... in an empty house.

Kyle wanted to play a video game and, for once, picked something that Sarah wanted to share with her brother.

I took the opportunity to grab my husband and send him to our bedroom so I can know all about therapy.

I could sense when he arrived that he was emotionally disturbed but that he was also putting on a brave front for our kids.

Alone, he managed to break that front and basically turned into putty in my hands as he cried and tried to explain his situation.

It's going to be a long therapy, but perhaps with progress soon enough.

There are two main types of problems to fix.

The first is the new emotional state from the recovery of a locked-out experience. This creates a sense of despair, of disempowerment, in him. He feels trapped, isolated, and ashamed.

He couldn't deal properly with the issue when it occurred, and now, he needs to face it headfirst because he has a family and a job and can't jeopardize either.

But there is a deeper second layer. That traumatic event created behavior modifications in him. Some, I appreciate, like how cautious he is when it comes to making sure I am fine, for example.

Yet, others are more problematic. Like how he perceives his body and his relationship to his physical self. Or to his ability to unwind and relax with others. How he is always guarded.

I didn't mind, but even his job selection might have been affected.

That's rather sobering when you realize that your life was possibly going one way, and a single event bifurcated it into another direction.

I nervously laughed when I heard that one of his exercises to do at home was to stand naked in front of the mirror in his bathroom after or before a bath or a shower so he could learn to accept his body.

"That's what Nadia said that naturism could do for you"

He scoffed. "Maybe I should go golfing with Patrick on Saturday."

"Ah ah", I said. As if.

But he didn't seem so bothered by the idea.

"I mean, it's terrifying. The idea of being naked on a golf course, but is it more terrifying than feeling emotionally naked on that therapist couch every two weeks?" he said, musing.

I didn't have that answer. But it still felt, I don't know, preachy of Nadia and Patrick.

And yet, she had been nice to me, and Patrick has been nice to John.

Why did they have to be naturists!

We soon joined our kids. Healing, emotional or otherwise, cannot be hastened.

"Mario Kart, Mom and Dad?" said Kyle.

And so, we played, the four of us. And I mostly lost again, but I didn't mind. My kids were having fun, my husband had his mind away from the pain, and that, in my heart, counted as a win.

In the evening, after we tucked both of our kids into bed, John went for a shower. I had showered at work, and it was too hot for a bath, so I just waited for him.

Both my kids opted out of their pajamas for the night, and I could hear the AC outside struggling. Surely it wasn't that hot outside?

When the shower ended, I went into the bathroom and found my husband doing his exercise. Looking at his whole body in front of the mirror.

"Hello handsome", I said.

"Please. I am not that good looking"

"To me, you are", I tell him, kissing his shoulder.

"Would you mind if I didn't put on boxers to sleep? "

"Why?"

"Well, I realized that I slept in the nude in my bed until that evening. "

"I don't mind. I'll be sleeping anyway. Unless..."

"No, it might be a few more days", he says, ashamed.

"Hey, don't be sorry. I am here for you", I say, hugging him.

We get to bed, and it is far too warm.

"Is there something wrong with the heat pump?" I ask him.

"Maybe. I'll call for an inspection. But we both work; it's not easy"

I try to fall asleep, but I end up removing the comforter from my side after John falls asleep.

My alarm clock has a temperature sensor, and it says it's 81 in the bedroom. I end up opening my pajama top a little to feel less warm, and that does the trick. I even manage to sleep until my alarm rings.

<-#4: Overcoming Trauma #4: Letting it out