When Fear Becomes Form

Submitted by: LA Smith

4/24/26

When Fear Becomes Form

Her office smelled like something I couldn’t name.

Sweet, but not candy.

It floated around my nose, sometimes stronger, always nice.

I asked her on my second visit what it was.

“It might be the lavender.” She smiled and waited for me to pick a spot to sit.

I nodded like I knew what lavender meant, even though I didn’t.

She was waiting. I was not in a hurry.

I wandered around the room, head tilted, reading titles on books and magazines sideways. Nodded like I understood what lived inside the pages. Figured they must be instruction manuals on how to pry into kids’ brains and let all the bad stuff leak out.

I worried they were written especially for me.

Eventually, I ran out of places to look. I was getting bored.

Deidra was actually pretty nice. She felt like she must be somebody’s mom. Not mine. Someone else’s. Warm and round, dressed up in cool-looking clothes.

I liked that nothing I said surprised her, or, upset her. She always looked interested, with a little bit of worry. And, she had this small smile — like maybe she sorta liked me. Like she didn’t mind my being here.

Safe.

Real safe.

I picked a new chair. Closer today, but not across from her. Angled off to the side, just enough that I didn’t have to look straight at her.

I hate it when people look straight at me. It feels like they’re measuring me.

That never turns out good.

Usually, Deidra stays where she is.

Today she didn’t.

She scooched her chair around and faced me.

Nope.

I didn’t like that.

“Uhhhh…” I made a spinning motion with my finger that said turn around.

“I’d really like to look at you today, BJ,” she said. “It helps to see your face - understand what you’re feeling.”

Her voice was soft.

But she didn’t move.

“Would that be okay?”

No.

I shrugged.

Sunk deeper into the puffy chair. Let it swallow me up so my head was way down low.

Perfect.

“Can you tell me why it bothers you when people look at you?”

“Nope.” I pulled my hoodie up. “It just does.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw her eyebrows lift. That’s how she asks a question - without saying a word.

Then she sat and waited.

Watched.

Not a mean look.

Calm—patient.

“It’s easier if you’re not looking at me.”

“Uh-huh.” She wrote something on her yellow pad.

“What are you writing?”

“Just that you don’t like being faced directly. So I won’t forget.”

I frowned.

Shook my head.

“Maybe you’re writing how weird I am.”

She laughed.

Real. Not fake.

“Come take a look.”

She waved me over.

I didn’t want to. But my legs stood up and walked.

Stopped short.

An arm’s length away.

She turned the pad around, so I could read.

It just said: BJ doesn’t like direct eye contact during sessions.

That was it.

I went back to my huge chair.

Pulled my knees up, wrapped my arms around my shins, and rested my chin.

She waited.

Tap. Tap. Pen thudding on the pad.

Good.

I started looking at my fingers. Picked at my nails. Tried not to bite.

It felt good to make her wait.

Like I finally had control of something.

“I see a little smile,” Deidra said. “Want to share?”

I wiped it off quick. Can’t even think without getting caught.

“I was thinking about swim practice. We have a meet this weekend.”

“I thought swim meets made you nervous.”

Deidra remembers everything.

“Maybe not this one.”

“What makes this one different?”

She wasn’t letting it go.

I shrugged.

“I wasn’t really thinking about the meet,” I said faster than I meant to.

“I didn’t think so.”

She smiled the way she does when she knows something I don’t.

My chest got tight.

“You’ve been here a month,” she said. “Talking around something.”

I pushed deeper into the chair.

“Circling…something that bothers you. It feels to me like you want something to come out, but you don’t want to touch it.”

I coughed against the squeezing.

Stared at the designs in the floor.

The room felt like a merry-go-round getting ready to spin.

She leaned in closer.

“I think it’s pretty big.”

The words landed hard.

They rattled my brain. Shook loose visions - of his ugly face.

I pulled my knees tighter. Hid my face. Pressed my face into my kneecaps hard enough to make it hurt.

Pain is better. I can disappear into it.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, sounding like she meant it.

Paused.

“I’ve been hoping that you’ll trust me enough to open up and talk about whatever that ‘big’ thing might be.”

I could feel her eyeballs drilling into my head.

“Let’s try something else,” she said.

The words flipped a switch inside me.

I let loose the breath I’d been holding.

“Something easier. No details. A little imagination. Maybe even a little fun.”

I didn’t answer.

Anything was better than thinking about him.

“The thing inside you,” she held up a hand before I could argue. “You don’t have to name it. Just pick a color that describes it…any color.”

No.

“I don’t know…”

But I did know. It was already there, waiting.

“Black.”

Black wasn’t quite right though.

“Can I pick more than one color?”

“As many colors as you’d like.”

“Slimy green. Streaks of red and dark purple - all swallowed by sticky black.”

Words hopped out of my mouth way too fast.

I hadn’t even put them there.

They just popped out.

“Good,” she said. All bright and happy.

My heart started pounding.

Colors started changing into something I didn’t want to see.

No.

I dug my fingers into my skin.

“Stay with the colors,” she said softly.

I started taking breaths like a dog—panting.

Deidra was standing in front of me, holding a cup of water.

I hadn’t seen her move.

“Sorry,” she said. “I went too fast.”

She placed the cup in my hand.

I gulped it down.

Pushed the glass back her. The empty cup wiggled in the air between us.

She took it gently, and went back to her chair.

Picked up her pen and pad.

Deidra looked up at me. Glassy eyes, like she might cry.

She blinked twice before saying, “Most things that hurt us carry dark colors. Do you know why you chose those?”

I looked away fast.

“Because they’re ugly,” I said.

My jaw clenched.

So did my fists.

I wanted to get up and hit something.

“Are you angry?” She asked.

“Yeah. But not at you.”

“Good. Anger is allowed here. So is fear. This is a safe space to let those things out.”

My eyes burned and my nose started tingling.

No. No crying.

I turned away and flopped my legs over the arm of the chair. Looked at a picture of a lake on the wall.

The still water went on forever.

I thought about swimming. Faster starts off the blocks, speedier turns.

Swimming is the only thing I’m really good at.

“I can see that was hard for you,” she said.

I didn’t answer. I was watching Michael Phelps win the 200 meter freestyle in the Olympics. My best event.

“Can we go back…just to the colors?” Deidra asked.

The Olympic champion disappeared.

I looked at the clock by her elbow.

Thirty long minutes to go.

“You don’t need to think about the details,” she said. “Just stay with the colors.”

She waited.

I fidgeted.

Bit down hard on my lip.

Thought hard about biting my nails.

“It’s okay to be scared, BJ.”

The words helped me breathe. A little.

“You’re good at this,” she said.

I closed my eyes. Pulled the colors back.

Took a sharp breath.

“The colors. They move.” I blurted.

“Okay,” she paused. “How?”

“They stick together and then - pull apart.”

My stomach kept twisting in knots.

“Can you give them a shape?” She asked.

No way. I shook my head.

“It can be anything. You are in complete control of it.”

Control?

I never thought about being in charge.

That mattered - a lot.

I squeezed my eyelids tighter.

Tried to move the colors around.

At first they wouldn’t listen.

Went all wrong.

Scattered apart.

I opened my eyes.

“I lost it,” I said.

“That happens,” she said. “Try again?”

I closed my eyes. Pulled up the colors.

They pushed back.

I forced them together. One color. Then another.

I heard Deidra’s quiet voice whisper, “You can do this.”

I believed her.

A shape formed.

Fast. Moving.

It breathed.

My eyes snapped open.

I knew what it was.

Who it was.

I looked at Deidra.

“I don’t like it.”

She nodded, pushing her eyebrows together.

“Do you know what it is?” She asked.

I nodded.

“It has teeth.”

Blinked. Tears pushed up.

“We can slow down.”

No. I shook my head slowly.

Hot tears came up and spilled out onto my face.

“You can cry here,” she said.

No.

That’s not allowed.

“Would it help if I sat closer?” She offered.

My whole body stiffened.

“I can also stay put, right here.”

She patted her seat.

“Your choice.”

That was - new.

I stared at her. Tears dripping off my chin.

No one had ever offered to sit with me.

It sounded like a normal thing.

Like what moms on TV do with their kids.

I pointed - to a space next to my chair.

“You can sit there.”

I swung my legs off the arm, back around front.

She moved slowly. Careful.

Settled herself so close I could reach out and touch her.

“Is this okay?”

I nodded.

My stomach quivered a little, then calmed.

“What if I put my hand here —?”

“No.”

She pulled back fast.

“I’m sorry.”

She dropped her eyes. Waited.

Good.

“Just on the edge is okay. Not touching.”

Slower this time. It settled.

She left it there. Still.

My eyes looked at her nail polish. Followed the skin up her arm, all the way to her eyes.

They were brown and kind, and looking into me.

She nodded.

Something broke inside me.

And then -

I let it all go.

Not regular crying.

Moaning sounds.

A long line of crying tore out of me without stopping.

I pressed my face into her shoulder, even though I didn’t mean to.

A soft and steady place.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t shush me.

She just stayed.

Long enough for me to empty it all out.

Until there was nothing left.

When I pulled back, I felt lighter.

A strange floating feather-like feeling inside.

Even my head felt weirdly clear.

Right up until the colors popped back in.

Snatched the lightness away.

“Deidra,” I said. “It’s still there. It won’t leave.”

“The form?”

I nodded.

It was bigger now.

Teeth turned to fangs.

Clearer.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

I shook my head. No.

“That’s okay.”

She stood slowly.

Opened up space between us.

“One more thing then,” she said.

The clock said we were done.

She saw me staring and turned the clock around.

“Over there,” she pointed to a beanbag in the corner. “is a place you can put it.”

I stared at her. Worried for a minute about the snot stain I left on her shirt.

“Go on, BJ. Use your mind. Move it there.”

She nodded in the direction of the beanbag.

I tried.

Nothing.

“It won’t go.”

“Take your time. Close your eyes. Focus on making it move.”

I blinked shut.

Saw it.

Sneaked around behind it and built a wall.

Sat down with my back to it and used my legs to push.

It slid.

Slowly at first.

Heavy.

But I kept at it. Forced it all the way there.

Perched it on the beanbag.

Waiting.

“It’s there,” I said.

Opened my eyes.

Saw Deidra standing there dangling a bright blue whiffle bat in the air.

I looked at her.

“Take it,” she offered.

Wrong. It’s a trick.

“I get in big trouble for hitting.”

She nodded.

“I understand. Mostly, I agree about that.”

She took a big breath.

“This is one exception to that rule. There’s something over there that has hurt you for a long time. You can make it go away.”

She offered me the bat.

“If I hit it…”

I didn’t finish.

I didn’t know what would happen.

I looked at her.

“It might go away—for good,” she said.

She raised her eyebrows that way she does.

“Your choice. You don’t have to.”

Me?

I get to choose.

That changed everything.

I wiped my hands on my pants and slowly crawled out of my chair.

Watched my hands reach for the bat.

Cool. Light. Plastic.

I took a small step.

Then snuck up on it.

Watching it sit there. Ugly.

I froze it in place.

That horrible, nasty…

I raised the bat.

Paused.

The ugliness moved.

I almost dropped the bat.

It was him.

I stumbled a little.

What if he comes back?

Worse than before.

“BJ, you’re here. Safe. Go ahead.” Deidra whispered.

I slammed a barbed wire fence around him.

Locked him down.

And, then - I swung.

Thud!

The shock vibrated through my arms.

But I could still see him there swirling in colors.

Broken but not dead.

I hit harder the next time.

Harder.

Again.

Again.

Grunting with each swing.

All my anger broke open and poured itself into the bat.

Broke him.

Something inside me rose up strong and tall.

Time stalled.

I kept swinging like a wild person until, finally, every last bit of color was gone.

Just the beanbag was left behind.

My chest heaved.

I did it.

I beat it.

I opened my eyes to see a broken crumpled bat hanging in my hand.

Behind me, Deidra stood silently.

I knew what came next.

I raised my hands and turned.

Shield.

Brace.

Wait for it.

Deidra stood still as a statue.

Long enough for me to peek around my forearms.

Check.

No fists. No angry face.

“It’s okay, BJ,” she said softly.

My arms looked heavy and stupid in the air. Bat dangling.

“I think I broke your bat,” I said.

She threw her head back and laughed.

A real laugh.

Not forced.

It was my turn to lift up my eyebrows.

Figure out why she was laughing.

It didn’t matter.

My lips stretched into a grin.

Watching her.

The room filled with the smell of lavender.

Soft. Steady.

A sound came out of me.

Not crying.

Almost like a laugh.

Almost.

My eyes drifted back to the beanbag.

Just in case.