Such A Beautiful Disaster

Part 9

Monday and Tuesday were a haze. I didn't keep good on the promises I had made to myself. I was sniffing more pills than ever, Jack and I had gone a few more rounds in my bed, and I hadn't called or texted RC, ignoring his messages every single time. I felt horrible. Which is why I didn't let one moment of my life go by in a sober state. I didn't want to think about what a mess I had created for myself.

It was Wednesday afternoon, and I was finally dragging my ass into Julie's office. I was in one major drug induced stupor. The whole bus ride there I kept nodding out. I'd come to, itch myself like a mad woman, then look out the window to make sure I hadn't missed my stop before I eventually nodded out again. It was pathetic. I was going into my counselor's office, who by the way had a major influence on the judge's decisions of what to do with my sorry behind, high as a freaking kite. And because of said high-as-a-kite demeanor I started laughing over the stupidity of it all.

I walked up to the receptionist, told her my name and that I was there to see Julie. She eyed me suspiciously as she handed me the log to sign my name, proving to whomever it may concern that I indeed showed up. As I filled it out, my usual unnaturally neat handwriting looking like chicken scratch because of my shaky hands, she picked up the phone to let Julie know I was here.

I went and took a seat in the waiting area. I contemplated getting a cup of coffee from the pot they had going in reception from open until close. I opted against it. For one thing, I didn't want to move once I sat down. Just the thought of getting up again exhausted me. Another thing would be that coffee wasn't going to help wake me up any. I was past the point of trying to convince Julie that 'Everything was fine!' and 'There's NO WAY I would ever touch drugs again!' So I just sat there, willing myself to keep conscious long enough so Julie wouldn't actually have to witness me nodding out before her very eyes.

After fives minute that felt like an eternity, Julie appeared in the walkway. "Molly." she stated which was my cue to get up and follow her to her office. I lugged myself out of the chair and followed Julie down the hallway. She gestured for me to go in first so I walked in and took the seat beside her desk as she closed the door behind us. She walked over and sat down in her chair. Julie looked me over for a moment before asking "You're bombed out of your mind right now aren't you?" I looked up at her surprised. I don't know why I should have been though. Besides the fact the Julie was always straight up, cut to the chase like that, I looked like a shell of my former self. I had lost about 15 pounds. I had already been pretty thin to begin with so now I just looked sick. My complexion was that of a corpse who once had severe acne. My blue eyes looked grey instead, hazed over with a nasty looking pink because they were so bloodshot, and you could barely see my pupils. Add that together and you have a frightening result.

So I didn't bother to lie. "Yeah," I told her. Julie sighed. She stayed quiet for a few moments. The silence hung in the air between us like a thick fog. Finally, Julie said "Molly, I realize the anniversaries are coming up and how difficult it must be for you. But this is NOT the way to deal with it. I know that using drugs and alcohol are your oldest coping method but it is not positive way to deal in any way, shape, or form. You DO have positive coping methods. Your writing, your art, your love of helping others. I know this because I've helped you to build them. You have to start talking through your issues, instead of suppressing them for so long that when they finally come to the surface, you feel as if you have no choice but to numb yourself with substances."

Julie paused to let that sink in before continuing "Look at you now. You look sick. You look like you shouldn't even be walking around. Not only that but you have court to deal with, and let me tell you, I've been in contact with them and they are not happy. They feel as if they've given you enough chances. They want to sentence you to 18 months in jail. Is that what you want?" I'm pretty sure she knew it wasn't. I had started crying. Warm tears ran down my cheeks and my nose was clogged with snot. She was right. She was right about everything. Stuffing things down, then when they came back up I couldn't deal. So I got high. I never wanted to talk about it, what had happened, why I had gotten so heavy into drugs in the first place. I didn't want to think about it whatsoever. Then I realized how close the anniversary was and all the sorrow and anger and guilt came right back.