It’s Friday, and I’m feeling much better than earlier in the week. I’ve mentally reclaimed the driver’s seat and will not allow myself to become overwhelmed or terrorized by irrational thoughts. I’ve committed to taking care of myself this week and feel refreshed. I haven’t drunk anything since Tuesday, I’ve caught up on all my client notes, and Eirik and I have managed a couple of simple but cozy dinners together. All the stress around Elisabeth was triggered by the strange episode with Leah Iverson, but now I’m more aware of it, I’m able to place them into the compartments where they belong in my mind. Elisabeth: tragic, but gone. Eirik is absolutely right, I have to let it go now. And I did what I could. Then there is Leah – a client for whom I hold much hope, and I need to remain committed and focused on supporting her, not letting her behavior or circumstances trigger my own personal reactions.

Arriving at the office, I’m looking forward to the day ahead. I only have three clients today as one called in sick. A fairly new client named Marisa, who struggles with debilitating anxiety and apologizes constantly for absolutely everything, at eleven thirty. Then Leah at two, followed by Siri Engevik, who feels trapped in a bad marriage, but is very obviously herself a wounded woman with a difficult character.

It isn’t difficult to access feelings of empathy for Marisa and I listen intently as she painstakingly recounts how she feels like her family take her for granted and don’t care about her frazzled nerves. They don’t even ask why my hands are bleeding from the constant handwashing, or why I count under my breath or why I sometimes burst into tears when I’m cleaning.

When she leaves, I pop down to the coffee shop for a sandwich and a freshly squeezed orange juice, like I sometimes do on a Friday as I have a big gap between Marisa and Leah. When I think about the fact that in just over an hour, Leah will be sitting across from me again, I feel the flutter of trepidation in my gut. Was last week just a dramatic lapse in her emotional well-being, or will she turn up even more unhinged today? I know I will look for signs of pregnancy in her, but I’ve steeled myself now, and done my work – I know that Leah being pregnant doesn’t mean I won’t also get pregnant. I just needed to reason with myself. I wonder whether she will tell me or simply never mention it and get rid of the baby. I swallow hard at the thought of Leah’s baby, snug and tiny inside the shell of her womb, becoming.