30 Days In Rehab

Day 18: Thursday (Part 2!)

He pushes my wheelchair out the centers front door, the sun blinding me and warming my skin. "What would you like to do first?" He asks from behind me. "Do you not simply say get high, look deeper, dig deeper. What is something that you've been wanting to do but this center has stopped you from doing?" He asks.

"I..." I raise my eyes from the ground and look to the sun, "I want to be quiet. I've been told to talk everyday, for once, I just want to be silent."

"Are you willing to listen?"

"To you? Sure."

"Great. Let's go." He turns my wheel chair and begins walking down the street. "You can begin talking whenever you please, remember that." He reminds. I nod my head. "A lot of psychiatrists and psychologists believe that that grieving process involves letting go. Embrace the memories and then let them go, forgetting the person all together. When in fact, they're wrong. A funeral, is a celebration of life. During a funeral, family members and close friends share their memories and how much they are going to miss that deceased person. But do you ever say that the deceased person is gone and forgotten?" He asks.

I shake my head, "they usually say gone but never forgotten."

"Because that person has impacted them. In your case, I believe that people have focused on the bad more than anything. Is that true?"

I shrug, "for the most part we did focus on the bad. Sometimes we did speak about the good, hut that was only really to bring me back from the edge."

"Speaking about the bad time can be beneficial. But if one continues to speak about the bad times then the good times can be forgotten. It--"

"Um, I thought about the good times sometimes."

"That's good. Its good to hear that you haven't forgotten them." He pauses at the edge of the sidewalk, waiting for the light to turn red. "Over the next week and some days, everyday we will go somewhere that has a meaning to you. Today I just want you to get accustomed to being outside again... To being free."

The light turns red and we cross the street in silence. We walk beside a hospital that seems more than familiar and my heart drops.

I'm sitting under the willow tree across from the hospital. I had to get three stitches in my hand. By me being the big baby I am, I cried about the pain until the doctor gave me a Percocet. I took the pill and it hit me like a wild bull. I stumbled out of the hospital, across the empty street, and underneath of this willow tree because it's so pretty. "There's an ant crawling up your leg, miss." Someone teases just as I start drifting away. I open my eyes and smiles, "hello, Mr. Andrew." I greet.

I clear my throat, "2 years ago I came to this hospital with a piece of glass in my hand from my ex-boyfriend who used to beat the hell out of me. I ended up across the street and under that willow tree," I point, "high off the prescribed medicine. Daniel's friend, Andrew, who I had previously met at the club I worked at, somehow recognized me and took me home... He's in jail for murder now. He killed the men that killed Daniel."

He smiles and sits beside me, "I kind of feel like you're stalking me." He teases again. "Ha, me stalking you? Why would I do that?" I ask, closing my eyes back. Since he's here, I don't want to be rude and fall asleep on him so I'm internally fighting this drug.

"I don't know, maybe you wanna be my friend." He says.

I miss Andrew a bit.

"Do you feel as if you are to blame for his actions?" Willaby asks. I shake my head, "no. I know that he would have went after them if Daniel was alive and in the hospital. That's just how he is." Willaby shifts behind me, "good. You have to be able to let go of things that you cannot control and/or change... When I looked over your file, I saw that your main support was coming from--"

"Telara... Yeah she is-- was my best friend."

"Care to share?"

"I said some things to her... I was insensitive. She told me she was pregnant and I lashed out. She told me about myself. She pointed out that I had her support while she was left in the cold. She's alone out there; pregnant while Andrew is in prison."

"Ahh, Andrew is the child's father." Willaby concludes. I nod, "yeah, and apparently the love of her life. I was too wrapped up in myself to see that they were becoming wrapped up in each other. I'm a terrible friend." Willaby hums, "sounds like you are. You should reach out to her before its too late."

I scoff, "she wouldn't talk to me if her life depended on it. I think our friendship, our love for each other, has been strained so much that its gone."

"Object permanence." He says in a wise tone, "it means to understand that things continue to exist, even if they are hidden from us. I do not believe that your friendship and love is gone, I believe it is just buried by frustration, anger, and sadness. Which is why I am telling you to reach out to her before those things really do disappear."