I told them I was coming, but I didn’t tell them why. So I can just imagine what’s going through their heads right now. But whatever it is… I hate that I’ll either be confirming their fears or handing them something even heavier.
We all move to the table in silence and take a seat, and I keep my gaze cast down, away from theirs. I can’t look in their eyes full of worry and hurt while I admit to everything that I’ve done to cause that. I just need to get this out…
I draw a breath that trembles on the way in. “I…” I start, but immediately, emotion rushes to the surface. I try to swallow it down and twist my fingers under the table until my knuckles ache. “I?—”
But I can’t do it. My voice is shaky and weak, and I’m trying everything I can to hold the tears back. But they’re fighting their way out, and winning.
So I let them.
I close my eyes and lean forward, letting my forehead rest on the table as a sob breaks free from my chest. Everything I’ve been holding in flows out of me, like it was always meant to rest here. Like it was all waiting for this moment, in this space, with these people. With my family.
The air leaves me in uneven bursts as my chest heaves, and the sobs keep coming.
A hand lands gently on my back, and I know it’s Darren. He eases closer and curls his fingers around my shoulder to guide me upright. Then he leans in and wraps his arms around me, and mine find their way around him. I lean into his shoulder as I continue to cry, and he just holds me. Everyone stays quiet as they let me do what I need to do and get it all out.
When the sobs slow and my breathing evens out, I slowly pull back from Darren and glance around the table.
Mom has her hands pressed over her mouth as tears slip down her cheeks, and Dad’s eyes are red and wet, and his lips are pressed together like he’s holding everything in for my sake. Their faces are a mix of worry, love, pain, and patience.
It’s always been there… but I see it now.
I blow out a shaky breath and wipe my eyes. “I… I have a problem.” I glance at Darren and nod. “You were right. I let myself get too deep. But it’s more than just depression…” I lower my gaze again and sniff. “I need alcohol to get through every day. I need it to function. I drink to get through my lectures, I drink to fall asleep, I drink to try to feel something… anything.”
I hear Mom sniff, and Dad shifts in his seat.
“Everything just pisses me off. All the time,” I continue, looking down at my hands. “I can’t even stand being in my own skin, and I… I just feel numb, all the time.” I shake my head. “And I’ve treated you all like shit, and you don’t deserve it.”
“We just want to help you, Cade,” Mom says in a small, fragile voice, and more tears build in my eyes.
I look up to meet her watery eyes and nod. “I know. I know that now. Everyone’s been trying.”
Dad leans forward, tilting his head as he carefully observes me. “What do you need?”
I take a deep breath and blow it out, trying to find the strength to say these words. “I talked to my department head yesterday.” I shift in my seat and avoid everyone’s gaze. “He set me up with the university’s employee assistance program.”
My gaze slides to Darren again and he gives me a small nod, and a gentle smile.
“I have an intake appointment with a therapist and a substance use program next week,” I say quietly, as shame tries to roll in and take over.
Dad suddenly stands and walks over to me. Then he pulls me up against him in a hug. He holds me as my tears start flowing again, and I wrap my arms around him.
“I’m proud of you, Cade,” he says, and I hold him tighter.
It’s like we’re finally able to give each other everything I’ve denied us both, and I never want to let go. There’s a comfortin his hug that feels good, and I hang onto him a little longer, letting it seep into me and give me the strength I need.
When I finally step back, I wipe my eyes again with a sniff. “I just hope I can do it.”
“You will,” Dad says. “We’re going to help you.”
“Anything you need,” Darren adds. He watches me and waits until I sit again. “What about work?” he asks gently.
“I’m taking a modified-duties leave. I’ll have the summer and fall semesters off from coursework,” I say, already feeling the relief of that being off my shoulders right now. “I’ll be able to focus on my research and student supervision with some help.”
Darren smiles, and I can’t help but stare at him for a moment.
I don’t think I’ve seen a genuine smile from him in a while.
“I think that’ll be good for you,” he says. “Get back to things you love and find joy in. Recharge and fill your tank again.”
