It shouldn't have bothered her so much.
I mean, it's not like it was the first time she had died (what a batfamily thing to think). And it wasn't even for that long.
Sure, she was tortured before it again, but nowhere near as long – guess Cass wasn't letting her go missing for three days to be tortured to death again oh wait – but something about it being her own father over the creepy wooden masked freak just made it worse somehow.
Like a deep personal betrayal. Which didn't even make sense considering everything Arthur had – or in some more important cases, hadn't – done.
Finding herself unable to sleep more often, staring blankly at the ceiling, she didn't even trust herself to patrol alone at the moment. While she naturally had a hair-trigger temper, having a maelstrom of complex emotions and the after effects of Lazarus Serum in her system was a deadly combination for, well. Anyone that even looked at her the wrong way, honestly.
All she had to do was push this down for long enough and it would be contained. Contained enough for her to be back to fine, at least.
And then she could ignore it like every other problem she had.
She had no problems. Everything was fine here.
As long as she had hope, right?