You're Not Enough

Chapter 25

When was the last time you had an anxiety attack?" Rachel asks me.

"Today," I answer her honestly. I don't need to lie to her anymore. I've decided that I will stick around longer for my parents, and if she can help me to some extent, then I'll let her. I need only about a month to fix everything.

"Today.. and what happened that led to this attack?"

"Just this girl, she was saying things...asking around about boarding school, I didn't know what to say because my parents didn't tell me what school they told everyone I was at. And I...I--"

"You didn't want to get caught in a lie." She finishes my sentence.

I nod my head.

"How do you feel about your parents lying?" she asks.

"I haven't thought about it." I lie. I don't want to talk about my parents right now. Or anytime, I feel like I'm betraying them somehow.

"So you haven't felt like your parents have made your return harder because now you have to keep up with a lie that they made."

That's exactly how I've felt. It's like she's in my head. "I have." I sigh in defeat.

"Have they ever made you lie before?" I shouldn't tell her about my dad's drinking. She will certainly tell my mom. He didn't ask me not to tell my mother, so technically, he didn't exactly ask me to lie.

"No," I say honestly.

...

"So coping skills. Do you know what they are?"

"Yes."

"No doubt, they taught you coping skills at the facility. What were some that they mentioned to you?"

"Well, they mentioned a lot..."

"Which one have you used today?"

"Rubberband method." I lie. I haven't plucked the rubber band on my wrist all day. I haven't been using it to cope. I haven't been coping.

Well, I have, but not in the way she thinks.

"I thought so. When you first came on Monday, you couldn't stop plucking the rubber band, and now I haven't seen you pluck it even once." She narrows her eyes at me. "So what have you been doing? I know I'm a good therapist, but I'm not that good; it hasn't even been a week. What have you been doing?" she raises her eyebrow.

What am I supposed to say? I can't tell her I've started cutting. I can't tell her that I did drugs. I can feel my heart racing. My palms are getting sweaty. Oh no.

"It's ok. You don't have to answer that; I already know, and it's ok," she assures me. "You'll move past it. You aren't perfect, Jayda. Everyone makes mistakes, people relapse, and this right here, what you are going through isn't something that can be fixed in a day." she says. "It isn't something that will be fixed in a week, hell, not even a year. You will always struggle with this for the rest of your life. The only question you need to ask yourself is, are you strong enough to beat it?"