Calamity [Zarry Stylik AU]©️

Chapter 25: DAY 3 - DID YOU WALK THROUGH THE STORM?

Z,

Day 4

"Gigi called again," Dr Rashad announced, reading through his notes. "Twice yesterday. One this morning."

"Did she leave a note?"

"No."

"Then, it's not important."

"Won't you call her back?"

"I have nothing to say to Gigi."

"Isn't Harry an important issue?"

"It is,"

"Maybe she should know about it." I don't respond. "Are you ready for that conversation?"

I knew what I wanted from Gigi and I knew she would come to collect it soon. So, this was a non-issue.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

Another morning session with Dr Rashad. I was tired of these conversations. It was like they were sucking the soul out of me - instead of making me see a possibility, I was sinking deeper.

I had been forced to remember someone I'd rather keep in the back of my mind, analysing the relationship with my wife, looking at my addiction and defining what Harry meant to me.

I was done. It was too much for me. I wasn't used to being this open all at once. We would talk all day - sometimes repeating the same topic over and over. it was exhausting. I like to take my time, and my pace and be the one in control of my truth. Not have it forced out of me.

I was looking at the weather outside my window, seeing the rain continuing to fall and the wind picking up speed.

Harry was on my mind.

He had been on my mind all night. I missed him so much. It was as if someone had a perpetual grip on my heart that kept me from staying calm and relieved.

No, I was in a constant state of anxiety, thinking about Harry and longing for him. I closed my eyes and saw him. I just wanted to be with him.

This need to be in his presence was so intense it was keeping me from sleep, from eating and from enjoying my everyday life - or what I could have at a rehabilitation centre.

These past three days have been solely with Dr Rashad, as he was assessing how strong my urges to return to drugs were because of a stupid mistake I made at a moment I was overwhelmed.

I spent most of the time wallowing in my misery, in my room; not talking to any other patients.

"When you first grabbed the pills, what were you thinking? Feeling?"

Dr Rashad asked, looking at me from behind his glasses. This question wasn't new - he would ask me the same question, time and time again, just masquerading it differently.

He wanted to catch me in a lie or contradict myself. I liked my therapist, but he was getting on my nerves already.

I was particularly tired today. I counted, on one hand, the hours I had slept. I sat in silence, listening to the rainfall and thunder rolling. Again, the only thing holding me was a cup of coffee this morning.

I looked down at my hands.

"I was overwhelmed and I wanted a way to feel less overwhelmed. I was in an environment that was triggering me, so I needed a way out."

The same answer I had given all the other times he had asked me.

"Do you feel that, by taking the pills, you'd regain control of the situation?"