Where My Demons Hide

Second Guessing Everything

By the beginning of the third day, I was starting to hate Dr. White almost as much as my parents.  But for entirely different reasons.  The man didn't have boundaries where I was concerned for whatever reason.  The smug bastard did end up leaving his office, with the perfectly clean blade in place.  He was so convinced that this would be what broke me.  

The light on his desk bounced off the silver constantly bringing my attention back to it.  I wouldn't break.  This would not be the thing that took me down.  Nothing worked so far and this sure as hell would not be the trick.  My past was never really far behind me.  With my constant anxiety and frequent panic attacks there was no way to get very far from it.  My nightmares were also guaranteed to keep me tethered to it. 

The time on his clock was marked with a soft click of the second hand. I gave up trying to count the minutes that he had been gone.  It didn't matter anyway, at least with him out of the office I didn't have to talk. And now I wasn't technically being rude by remaining silent. When the clock indicated the hour had passed, the infuriating doctor walked casually back in to his office and simply stated, 

"I will see you at the same time tomorrow, yes?" He never really looked at me as he said it, but he knew he had me.  I would be there, no doubt about it, but now out of spite.  I refused to even crack for this man there was no way he would get me to break entirely.

"Meadow, where did you go just now?" 

"I was just reminding myself why I loathe you," I kept my voice even on purpose.  There was nothing to gain by being even slightly vulnerable in here.  

"Well, that's not going to help you right now, correct?" Everything was a question.

"Does it matter? You are the one who insists I sit here for an hour every day for at least the next seven days all in your ridiculous attempt to mend me.  What I think about really should not change your travel plans.  Maybe use this hour to catch up on paper work."

"Meadow, I really wish you would give this a chance, you know? I know that our first meeting was slightly unorthodox, but I don't regret it.  You proved me right, don't you realize that?" 

"I'm not sure how you see it that way, honestly. You were the one to ask the ridiculous question if I was suicidal or not. I cut, I won't deny that. But you would to if you lived my life. It is controlled. Nothing that needs further discussion nor is it anything I plan on stopping. My reason for ending up in the hospital was because I tripped and hit my head in my bathroom," that was the most I had said to him all at once since meeting him.

"Is that what you think? I can't believe they didn't discuss any of this with you when you woke up. I will go over it all with you now, though. The reason you went to the hospital was because of loss of blood. The amount of cuts on your body resulted in significant blood loss. We aren't sure how long you were in there on your own before they found you. When someone cuts that much and that deep it is usually more than just a cry for help. It is a suicide attempt, thankfully one that failed."

I didn't know what to say to that. This had never happened like this before. Sure I have had my hospital visits, pediatricians and doctors concerned about certain marks on my body. But I have always been careful to only cut just enough. What Dr. White said actually scared me a little. Was that what I was trying to do? I absolutely hated doubting myself, but at this point I didn't know what else to think.

"Dr. White, I have a headache is there any way we can cut this short today?" I wasn't lying about my headache, but this was one I could certainly power through on a normal day.  I just needed time to digest what he said to me.

"Meadow, listen to me, I think if you really gave this a chance, we could make some real changes in the way you think and feel.  I know that life hasn't been easy for you.  Anyone could tell that just by looking you in the eyes, never mind from the excessive scars decorating your body.  With that being said, you are tough. And I can say that with immense confidence because if you weren't tough, you wouldn't be here.  You would have been gone long before now. But you know, even if it's subconsciously, that you want to be alive. Now we just have to get you to a place where you want to be better, too." 

I stood up and left his office without waiting for his go ahead.  I couldn't do anymore today. For the first time, in as long as I can remember, I questioned myself. The only thing I have been able to count on, aside from cutting, is myself.  Now one hour with Dr. White and I'm completely unsure whether or not I tried to off myself. 

I ended up staying in my bed for the rest of the night.  Normally, group talk is mandatory, but for whatever reason I was excused.  When the sun came up the next morning, I was still awake and absolutely dreading meeting with Dr. White again. Somehow, this man reached me on a level no one else ever had. 

Quite frankly, it pissed me off that I had sat with this man no more than five hours and he was already able to get under my skin. Even more than that, I was pissed at myself for letting him. 'Better' isn't something that happens for someone like me. The past doesn't just go away because I talk about my feelings. I don't get to just wake up one day and feel all better about being violated and abused on an almost daily basis. Life just isn't that simple.