When you see the outward signs of anxiety, you want nothing more than to offer solace to the afflicted.  That orange jaundice of someone suffering through a deep psychological malady, the arthritic hands spiderwebbed with shaky sinews.  Sometimes just rubbing their thoracic spine while listening to their jarring night tremors is enough, let that shaking husk of a person let it all out. When you see the mandibular bulge of a jaw flexed in pure psychosomatic stress, let them present an ordinal list,

10.4.16, patient counseling transcript, DSM-IV and HPAA protected, not for dissemination

“vanilla…ginger…oh christ, cardamom, I see them all in my fever dreams, they are so real,”

“shhh hush, keep doing the breathing execises”

“and and and, clove and cinnamon is there and there’s nothing i can do,”

“no one expects you to do anything, sip your water slowly, no one is here to get you, careful, you are rattling it against your teeth”

“oh christ, it keeps replaying in my mind, they slide the nutmeg into the oven, and the orange peel, I’m just standing there and…and I can’t run fast enough, it always catches me.  I have these tremors, where all I can do is drink Rogue ale, it’s always the same pumpkin, and it’s like, my teeth fall out like irony piano keys”

“God you are so brave for confronting these terrors, just breathe, we will get through this”

“They say grief is like treading water in a storm and you have to to to wait for the wave of dread to pass over you but, sometimes I feel like the Rogue will never go away, and everything will just be just be ROGUE all ROGUE forever and ever (inaudible sobbing) kin”