Skinny Boy ✔

Chapter 54: we all have problems

It was my second time at this support-group-therapy thing, and having been there once before, I can tell you it was no easier entering that room the second time around than it was the first. All these people knew I had problems, and there was no hiding it. That's exactly why I was there, after all. 

Each session was every other week, but two weeks wasn't long enough to prepare myself for going. It was, however, enough time for mom and dad to convince my depressed and vulnerable self to give it a try. "It'll help to be around other people who understand," they encouraged. 

A week ago, the idea of being around people who understand me seemed appealing, but facing that closed door, peeking through the small window that showed the other side of reality, it no longer seemed such a good idea. 

But now, I had no other choice than to face that part of reality. I would later realize this was the part of reality that exposed my distorted one. Note that I don't say 'fantasy' or 'illusion,' because at this point, it was all too real to be considered such a thing. The way I saw things, the ways I was so used to doing things, it was my own way of seeing the world. It was my own personal reality, and it was being torn down. One brick and board at a time, it already was in the process of crumbling, but behind that dreaded, nerve wracking door was where it would take some really hard hits. 

No, it didn't crumble all at once. I hate to break it to you, but recovery is a process, and coming to your senses is a long road with multiple pit stops. Not one aha! moment, but multiple wait a minute... moments. 

Epiphanies are a gradual process.

"Go on," dad said, nudging me to open the door. I hadn't realized how long I'd been wrestling with myself over going inside until he said that. 

Taking another deep breath, I opened the door and stepped inside, looking back at dad who waved goodbye with an encouraging smile. Being the last person to arrive this time, all eyes immediately landed on me. Not a single pair was looking anywhere else. I had to fight the sudden urge to vomit, or piss, or...both. 

"Hi, Nathan," Mandy greeted. "Come take a seat, we were just starting." 

I ducked my head and took the only empty seat left, feeling people's eyes burns holes into the back of my skull. 

Those were pretty much the only words I heard the whole time. For the rest of the lesson, discussion, and conversations, I turned my mind on autopilot, and let myself drone out. I was lucky enough to get a seat in view of the clock, so at least I had one thing to do in the meantime other than letting my mind race and rant: I counted the time. I counted the seconds, the minutes, the hour. 

I never knew how much fun you could have with a clock. I counted the most obscure things. Anything from the pulse in my wrist, to the amount of times the girl sitting next to me looked down at her chipped fingernails she was still tearing away at in the span of a minute; from how many seconds it took to inhale and exhale, to how many times someone coughed in the hour. 

We finally finished, and were let off early with fifteen minutes to spare. Sounds like a good thing, right? I thought so too, thinking I could get away with dad getting me early. 

And then Louis came over to me. I had just sent a text to dad, standing by the snacks at the refreshment table, contemplating whether or not I felt like getting lemonade. First world problems, right? Up came this dark eye boy, not much taller than me but slightly thinner. 

At least I hope. 

"I can't tell you how relieving it is knowing I'm not the only dude in the group anymore," he laughed lightly. 

I forced the smallest of tight-lipped smiles. "Yeah." 

"I'm Louis, by the way," he said, grabbing a baby carrot at shoving it in his mouth, completely dry. 

Dude, there's dip for a reason. 

"You don't talk a lot," he stated. "Something on your mind?" 

"Just judging you for not using dip," I mumbled. My eyes widened when I realized how rude that sounded out loud. 

But he thought it was hilarious, and let out a shameless snort. "Can't blame you, it's out of my character. I'm just trying to cut some calories, is all." 

I swallowed a lump in my throat, not prepared to have gotten into a conversation about weight-loss. 

Seeing my wide-eyed state, he nudged my with his elbow, a smile growing on his face. "That was a joke. We're not supposed to talk diets and calories and stuff here, you know. Might trigger people, or something." 

"Oh," I said, a ghost of a laugh escaping my lips. It was more out of relief than humor, though. "No, I didn't know that." 

"The more you know, right?" He took another baby carrot, this time bringing to a pit stop in the dip before popping it in his mouth. "So, what brings you around here?" 

I froze. What am I doing here? "That's a good question," was the answer I settled on. "I'm not too sure." 

"Just the common self-esteem issues?" he asked. 

I scrunched up my face in thought. "Something like that, yeah."

"Same. Dysmorphia is a bitch."

Dysmorphia. I had heard that term being thrown around between my parents the past couple weeks while listening in on their occasional chats about how I was doing. It annoyed me horribly to hear them talk about how depressed I was that day, or if I got out enough that week. Looking back on it now, I only see two parents so constantly concerned with the well being of their child. 

Oddly enough, as many times as I'd heard the word, I never really understood it. Not yet, anyway. It was not yet something I had come to terms with having. 

But that's okay, because slowly but surely, I was beginning to accept the fact that I had problems, and was learning that's okay. And maybe I didn't mind so much that these people know I have problems. 

Besides, all these other people have problems of their own. I looked around the room at all the people still here. That's why we're here, anyway. 

Snapshot.

~

Long time no see. Sorry about the wait; writer's block is an inconvenience to both reader and writer. :/

I'll be honest, I've been a little uninspired lately. I used to take really long walks whilst daydreaming about this book, but lately, my daydreams have been a little out-of-my-control. I still daydream, a lot, but it revolves around stories that aren't mine, most of the time. 

That's no excuse, though. I should have learned to adapt by now. My brain's just all over the place lately. Sorry again. 

Thoughts on the chapter? 

How about his shift of perspective on the class? 

Teaser: some problems in school and another group therapy session.