“You’ll find your way. You need time, support, and friends to lean on. You’re on the right track. The hard part is staying on it.”
“What if I fall?”
“Then you will get right back up and start again. It will happen; there is nothing you can do to stop it. With what you’ve been through, it’s bound to creep up on you eventually. It may not be tomorrow or the next day, but it’ll happen soon enough. All you can do is take it one day at a time. Don’t dwell on the what ifs, because that won’t help you.”
“One foot in front of the other,” I said, wiping the stray tears off my checks. “I can do this.”
“You most certainly can. You’ve already come so far. Don’t give up now.”
That afternoon, I opened up the journal that Dr. Mayes had given me that first day I met her. Glancing through the questions on each page, I found most of them easy. Nothing was all that soul-engaging.
Lifting my pen, I started on the first page. All the questions were about family members and friends. Easy enough. After that, there were just questions on what my favorite things were. Most I left blank, because I had no clue. I was a boring person, and so far, this book was showing me just that.
For an hour, I went page by page, answering the prompts to the best of my ability. With each page I turned, the harder they became.
What was my goal?
Who do I want to be?
Have I done anything to change the lives around me?
I couldn’t answer them. There were no answers to some things. It would just have to stay that way.
On a blank sheet of paper, per Dr. Mayes’ request, I began my life story. She wanted me to write down as much as I could remember. Every detail. Every time Alan raped me.
So I did. I started with the first time he took my body in a way I hoped he never would. I wrote about how much that hurt me from the inside out. And how much I hated his guts afterwards. I explained how he tore me down, word by word, through the years. How he killed all the hope I had by telling me what I was up against.
I wrote how he killed Lisa, my first true friend and mother figure. I detailed how her blood was still stained on the floor because I couldn’t wash it all out, no matter how much bleach I used.
I even put down that that had been the day my heart officially broke and I lost all hope to live.
I went on with how Zevon had found me, drugged me, and taken me to where I should have been all along. I wrote down how our relationship was.
I noted down every relationship from thereon out, and how I felt about each and every one. I wrote down how I wasn’t sure where to go with some of them, fearing I’d lose them if I didn’t do what they wanted or expected of me.
I wrote about how Caesar and I were not on the best of terms, and I couldn’t understand why. We just hadn’t clicked. He kept his distance and only called when he felt like he had to.
By the time I was done, it was nearing midnight and my stomach was growling, but in just writing it all down, I felt better about a few things. I was healing. I was starting to come to terms with a lot of the crap I had gone through. There was only one way to keep going: one day at a time until I reached wherever I was headed.
One day, I could maybe be happy with who I was and put my past behind me.
Not wanting to be alone in the apartment, I got dressed and ready to take a walk. I needed to keep my body moving, my mind busy. I didn’t want to be caught in a panic attack while being alone again. I wasn’t sure I’d not go through with my urges if I was left alone for too long.
As I was shutting the door, I ran into a form. Again.
“Sorry!” Sawyer said, taking a step back. “I was just about to knock.”
“Good morning to you too,” I grumbled.
“I was wondering if you wanted to go walking with me? I do that at least three times a week.”
“Uh…”
“But you sooo need clothes. Like proper jogging, walking clothes. Not that.” She waved her hand up and down at my pair of cute jeans and a tank top.
What was wrong with what I had on?
“Jeans are not comfortable to wear to walk in.”
