Destined 2 Love ( Sequel )

I N A H E A R T - B E A T

As if the pressure of fashion week wasn't weighing down on Destiny enough, she was still at tug-of-war with her own heart. Trina's conditions were worsening and Destiny hadn't come to a decision on whether or not she wanted to say her final goodbyes. Honestly, she didn't feel her mother was deserving of that much from her after the emotional trauma she caused all of her children.

"Destiny, did you hear me?" Dr. Carina snapped her from her deep thoughts. "I'm sorry. Can you repeat the question." Destiny cleared her throat, fixing her posture on the sofa. Dr. Carina paused for a moment then closed the notepad in her lap. "Can you write about how the trauma you've experienced has impacted your life." Carina repeated. This was one familiar technique used to treat trauma. "It doesn't have to be a fully detailed paragraph. A simple statement, or bulletin points will do." Her therapist added.

Tapping the pen lightly against the paper, Destiny thought about what to write. She didn't understand why she was thinking long and hard about it like there was a right or wrong answer. Not long after, her hand was moving across the paper without hesitation while Dr. Carina waited for her to finish. "I'm done." She released a tiresome sigh.

"Okay, now, I want you to look at everything you wrote on the paper." Carina locked eyes with Destiny, "Out of all the things you wrote down, pick two things that stand out the most to you." There was a pause in the conversation when Destiny looked down at the paper before her again. Her eyes grew foggy with tears and she quickly looked up to keep them from falling.

"Shame. Feeling disconnected, and unable to relate to others." Destiny's voice was low and hoarse. "Do you mind sharing with me why you chose those two?" Dr. Carina opened the cap on her pen. "I don't know." Her shoulders went up then down, "The shame comes from being sexually assaulted, I guess. The feeling disconnected and unable to relate to others part stems from having to grow up at a quicker pace. I missed out on a lot." Destiny's voice was quavering by this point.

"I'm going to stop you right there," Dr. Carina held her hand up, "I sense an extensive amount of pain right there in your heart, and guess what," She used her hands to make gestures, "You didn't start deflecting." Some verbal appreciation from her therapist was important in the moment. Destiny could feel the tears now running down her face. She patted them softly with her fingertips. Dr. Carina issued her a smile while handing her a box of tissues.

"Even if you don't see it in yourself, I see you as having strength and courage that has allowed you to survive and move forward with your life. The fact that you can have these kinds of open conversations can be a source of hope for you. You are capable of learning, growing, changing and ultimately healing. You have the right to claim your power to resolve your trauma-related issues and needs." Carina's words were sincere. This was something often done to give patients a bit more of reassurance. How one ends a conversation can be almost as important and maybe even more so than how it begins.

Destiny thanked her therapist for her time, looking forward to her next session as she did any other time. So far, she and Dr. Carina have completed a total of five out of her twelve sessions. Destiny knew it would bittersweet at the end of therapy because Dr. Carina had now become apart of her healing journey; which she was thankful for. After making it out of the building, Destiny climbed into her costumed wrapped sky blue G63 AMG.

Since receiving it as a push present from Kross, she hasn't really driven it much due to the fact she was a one car, get-in-and-go kind of girl. While pulling up to the children's school, Destiny pulled out her phone to check the time. It was going on two-thirty in the afternoon and she was right on time for pickup. Hoping out the truck, she walked over to the daycare center. "Hello, Mrs. Jackson. I'll call for Kaleb." The woman behind the counter welcomed, handing her a sign-out board.