Serval and Sheep (Chapter 35)
Poppy seeks help.
I'm going to die.
Rabbits are animals that can actually die of fright. Their small hearts can give out from stress or terror just from one bad scare. Due to their small, edible proportions, natural selection has cursed these creatures with extraordinarily high anxiety.
Which is why Poppy is standing outside of a psychologist's office. She gazes up at the gray, window-adorned building feeling dwarfed by its stature.
I'm going to die.
This has been a long time coming. Statistically, over 60% of rabbits eventually seek psychological counsel to help manage their anxiety. There are specialized psychologists who only treat rabbits, in fact. That just goes to show how lucrative the market is. And such is the case for Poppy's counselor. He was recommended by an online forum on lagomorph mental help she dared to search through one evening. At the time, she had finally convinced herself to bite the bullet, but now, confronting the imposing edifice, she begins to think she's made a mistake coming here.
I'm going to die.
It's mortifying really. A rabbit with anxiety? it's just cliche. And so unsexy. Cheerleaders don't get mental illnesses; if anything they induce them on lesser, uglier females. If the others found out she even came close to seeing a shrink, her reputation would be ruined. That thought alone warded her away from therapy for 15 years.
I'm going to die.
But she was getting sick of it. Of the hyperventilating, and the acidic sting of vomit in the back of her throat, and the countless trembling sleepless nights she spent tossing and turning in her bed over nothing at all. She was so tired of her rattling, useless, cowardly heart.
I'm going to die.
Rabbits are programmed to always be on edge. Essentially, their fight or flight mode never switches off. So if you see a rabbit all tensed up and jittery, that means they are perfectly healthy. Of course, as a cheerleader, she could never let that show. She's learned to internalize her adrenaline and be the pretty little rex rabbit all of the boys love. And the boys do help.
_I'm going to die. _
In one of her most recent panic attacks, she stumbled across a very despairing thought: what if she has to live like this for the rest of her life? What if, no matter what she does, or no matter what she wants to be, she'll always feel nervous and uncomfortable until the day she dies of cardiac arrest? What kind of a life is that, anyways?
I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die.
That sentence lurks in the back of her mind, repeating over and over like a cursed record. It's the first thing she thinks of when she wakes up and the last thing she thinks of when she goes to bed.
I'm going to die.
Die of what? She doesn't know. It's become so ingrained in her, it might as well be an organ or a limb. Just another rabbit feature.
_I'm going to die. _
It's what she thinks just before taking a test. It's what she thinks just before going out to meet up with friends. It's what she thinks when there is simply nothing else to think of.
I'm going to die.
When Hafsa scratched up Mari's face, she nearly keeled over at the spot. Just by witnessing a freak accident. And sure enough, right as her vision went blurry, and she excused herself, what words echoed through her mind?
I'm going to die.
"So, Ms. Poppy, please take a seat and relax." A silky voice beckons her over to a velvet chair. When on earth had she entered the building?
She turns to look at the voice's owner. A white spotted horse observes her with calm patient eyes, motioning towards the office's interior. It's a tidy, well lit space with a curtained window overlooking a scenic garden. As if by instinct, she obeys the command and plops herself down on the armchair. The horse ambles towards an opposing chair, picking up a notebook and pen from his desk before seating himself.
"There is a glass of water and a box of tissues at your disposal, so don't be shy about using either of them." He remarks, pointing a finger to a small table next to her. Indeed, the items are neatly provided within arms reach.
"Th-thank you." She mumbles.
"Is your seat to your liking? I find my clients usually prefer a taller seat as it allows for direct eye contact. If you'd like, I have more cushions in the closet."
"N-no, that's fine."
"Very well," The horse clicks his pen, causing Poppy to jolt up instinctually. "If you don't mind, let's begin."
_I'm going to die. _
"Now, Ms. Poppy, let me introduce myself. My name is Dr. Sancho, but you can call me Sancho, or Sanny, or Sandwich, as my wife likes to, hehe. I've been a lagomorphic physcologist for sixteen years and counting, and I specialize in treating anxiety in young lagomorphs such as yourself. I'd like to congratulate you on coming here today. The tricky thing about anxiety is that it usually inhibits productive behavior, because you get too clogged up with fear to do things that could be potentially out of your comfort zone, isn't that right? So by being here with me today, you've already shown great progress when it comes to managing whatever is ailing you."
"I mean, it's not like there's anything wrong with me. I'm not some crazy person who needs to pop pills just to keep it together." Poppy sputters, crossing her legs. "I just thought that... I don't know. Maybe you could make my life a little easier."
Dr. Sancho chuckles mirthfully. "Well, I'll certainly try to. You have to understand that a counseling session isn't only for nut jobs and pill poppers but just for anyone who might be feeling a little lost, and needs some educated guidance. I can tell you that most of my clients are high schoolers much like yourself, perfectly normal in every way. Some of them might even go to the same school as you. But normal people have problems too, and there's no shame is reaching out for help."
The rabbit fidgets with her hands. "Well, okay then..."
"Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself?"
"Um, sure..." Her ears flicker. "I'm fifteen years old, and I'm a rex rabbit, so I need to take really good care of my fur. It's easy for it to get dull-- Sorry this doesn't matter."
"No, no," The horse interrupts her with a soothing tone. "Speak freely. No topic is too trivial here, I just want your honest, unfiltered thoughts. Your fur is quite lovely, so I'd like to know all about it."
Upon hearing the compliment, the rabbit's ears couldn't help but give a flicker of pride. "Hehe, thank you. So, er, as I was saying. I study at Noah's Arc Academy --y'know, the one up on the hill-- and I'm a cheerleader there."
Dr. Sancho's brows raise in surprise. "My, how impressive."
"Yeah, totally, right?" Poppy smirks. "My grades aren't great, but I have a ton of friends."
"Tell me more about your school life."
One hour and thirty minutes passed by in a heartbeat. When the doctor announces the end of the session, Poppy feels a sinking sensation in her stomach.
"You look disappointed." The therapist comments.
"Well, I like talking about myself." Poppy retorts, content with her honesty.
"That certainly makes my job easier," Sancho laughs. "But before you leave, I'd like to show you one thing."
He gets up and retrieves a piece of laminated paper from his desk. He hands the paper to Poppy, and grabs the nearby empty cup of water and crumpled up tissues that litter the small table next to her.
"That there is a chart on rabbit posture. Now, I don't mean to give away the tricks of the trade, but it serves as a nifty guide to assess how rabbits like yourself are feeling. It goes from least to most relaxed on a scale from 1 to 10. Throughout this session, I've seen you go from a 1 to a 3," He points towards the illustration of the model rabbit, uncurling slowly from a tense huddled ball to a more exposed, relaxed seating posture. "It makes me glad to know that you feel like this is a place where you can feel at ease. It's my aim to one day get you all the way up to a 10."
He points at the final pose of the chart, where the rabbit is languidly splayed out belly side down, arms and legs extended to either ends of the body, as if they were enjoying a nice stretch.
"We call this the sprawl. No doubt you and your sisters have done this before at home. It lets others know you feel completely safe."
He gives her a gentle smile. "Anxiety in rabbits is usually intensified by the rather larger medial prefrontal cortex, which processes emotional information within your working memory. In other words, it is many times just the body's natural reaction to any number of stimuli. Luckily for you, that makes things quite easy. Any behavior can be trained, especially one that is based on reacting. I would recommend cognitive behavioral therapy so that you may learn to reprogram how you deal with these random triggers. And sometimes, that reprogramming can be as simple as putting yourself in a sprawl position whenever you begin to feel anxious. The brain tends to listen to the body as much as the body listens to the brain. If you tell it that you're relaxed and that there's nothing to worry about, then it'll probably start to calm down."
"But this pose is a little..."
"It's kind of unnatural to do in an everyday setting, yes. That's why it's not foolproof. But if you manage to find a way to sneak it in to a daily routine, or when you feel like you're on the verge of a panic attack, I've had this technique recommended to me by many other lagomorphs. It's worth a shot."
Poppy flattens her ears. "Sure, I'll try it."
"So, can I expect to see you next week?" The horse extends his hand out.
"...Yep. Until next week." She takes it.
She doesn't think "I'm going to die" until the next day.
"Hey, Poppy, do you have a stomachache or something?" Coach Charlotte pokes the rex rabbit on the back of her head. Any other rabbit (or therapy horse) would have recognized her pose as a sprawl on the wooden bleacher of the gym, but to the layman, it just looks like a weird nap.
"No, coach, it's a new kind of stretching!" Poppy chirps. "It really... uh... preps your core!"
The kangaroo lifts a suspicious brow. "You can just say you have period cramps, bunny. We're all ladies here."
The other cheerleaders giggle as they continue their warm up stretches. But Poppy focuses on her sprawl and her slowly decreasing heart rate. Even if a rabbit can die of fright, they can also be happy enough to dedicate an entire position to feeling relaxed. So that must mean a rabbit like her can one day live life happy and carefree, sprawled out in the warm sun.