A knock at the door has my eyelids opening. My parents stand in the doorway looking like hell.
“Hi, Mom, Dad,” I say weakly. “Hey guys,” I whisper to my sisters.
My mother rushes to me, tears stream down her cheeks in black rivulets. “I-I was so scared. I just don’t understand. Drugs? How did this happen? How did I not know?” I want to say it’s because she’s been busy with her own life, that and the fact that she doesn’t read Exposé, but I don’t.
I don’t know what to say.
Seeing her cry breaks me. It feels like I’m being ripped in two. “I-I’ve been using on and off for a long time.” My words cause her to sob even more.
“I-I don’t understand,” she stutters. “How could we not know? How could I not know? I’m your mother. Shouldn’t I-I . . .” Her words get caught in her throat as she shakes uncontrollably.
“I got really good at hiding it,” I mutter out. Swiping at her tears she lifts her head to meet my gaze. So I try to explain. “I was traveling for work. There’s no way you could have known,” I try to reassure her, but there is no calming her. Her daughter almost died. I almost died. “It started when I was still in college.”
“When?”
“Junior year.”
A gasp escapes Lynn’s mouth. “It’s my fault. That’s when you found out about me. That’s when you found out I was your sister.”
“Lynn, it’s not your fault.” The words are hollow. It might not have been her fault, but I would be lying if I didn’t believe that she was a catalyst. Tears start to pour down her face. Our father steps over to her and envelops Lynn in an embrace. I study his face. He looks older today. The lines that mar his face are evident and profound.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “God, I’m so sorry.”
His face softens and he takes my hand in his. “It’s me who’s sorry, Olivia. I failed you. And worse, I should’ve known what was going on. I failed you twice.” A pent up sob releases through my mouth.“Shh,” he coos, trying to calm me.
“What do I do now? I’m not sure how to do this? How to get better.”
“We’ll be here. We aren’t leaving you. We’ll help you find your strength and heal,” he promises.
I might be broken and battered, but with my families help I know I can get through this.
I reach under my eyes and collect the gathering wetness with my fingertip. I focus my gaze on the ceiling, willing the tears to stop falling. I need to find the strength to be strong for them.
I need to find the strength to be strong for me.
Seventy-two hours later I’m released.
Spencer offers to drive me to the center, but instead, I tell him my parents will take me. I know they feel as if they’re to blame for everything. It isn’t their fault. Maybe the drama that came out was the catalyst, but in the end, I made my own choices.
The ride is uneventful. No one speaks. Dad’s hand is holding Mom’s, and with each strangled breath she takes, I can see his hand move, soothing her. It makes me feel awful, worse than I already feel for what I’ve put them through. If I had been stronger . . . better . . . enough.
I can’t think like that. That’s what got me into this. But it’s innate. This feeling has been present in my life for so long, I don’t know how to shut off the voices.
We arrive in Pennsylvania on Saturday morning. The early morning sun shining bright in the sky as we pull up. Thankfully, the rain has finally passed. “Wow,” I mumble from the back of the car.
“It is beautiful,” my mother agrees. “Hopefully, it helps you.”
My eyes start to dampen. I shouldn’t be thinking about how beautiful this place is. It shouldn’t matter. The only thing that should matter is getting help.
We push open the door and soft music filters through the air. This place doesn’t look like a rehab facility. All around me is peace and tranquility. It feels like I’m going on a relaxing vacation. Just like the name of the luxury rehab facility, Serenity. It is the perfect calming atmosphere to heal.
We walk farther into the lobby, and a man who looks to be my father’s age strides over to us, followed by a younger woman who is closer to her mid-twenties. “Hello, you must be Olivia. I’m Dr. Andrews, and this is Charlotte. I’ll be your psychiatrist for the duration of your stay here at Serenity, and Charlotte will be your program manager.”
“Hi. These are my parents.” I step back, allowing for introductions.
“It’s a pleasure to meet all of you,” Dr. Andrews says. “Follow me and we can briefly speak before Charlotte gives you the tour of the property.” We follow Dr. Andrews into a reception area that looks like something out of a luxury resort. Two couches sit across from each other with a coffee table separating them.
“I’d like to explain a little about the facility. Here at Serenity, we treat both the physical and mental dependencies. If needed, we are capable of providing the sufferer,” he smiles at me before he continues, “with a full detoxification program as well as all mental health aspects the sufferer will need to heal. While cocaine use usually doesn’t lead to the same physical addictions as, say, other drugs, it can often lead to psychological withdrawal symptoms. Charlotte and I will work together to make sure that during your stay here we address and treat the underlying issues that led you down this path. How does that sound, Olivia?”
“Good.” I nod. “It sounds good.”
“Okay, great. I see here . . .” Dr. Andrews pauses as he looks down at the open file on his lap. “I see we have you signed up for a four-week commitment to address the addiction as well as any behavioral issues that might have contributed. At the end of the four-week time frame, you can always opt to stay longer. But if you choose to not continue after the thirty days, we will set you up in outpatient aftercare. This part is critical as recovery is a lifelong process.”
We sit for a minute, my parents asking the necessary questions that I can’t think to ask. I sign myself in, officially registering for four weeks. Once all the paperwork is done, Dr. Andrews shakes my and my parents’ hands before leaving us with Charlotte.
“How about that tour, and when we’re done I’ll show Olivia to her room?” Charlotte asks and we all nod as she leads us toward a set of double doors that must hold the treatment facilities.
“As Dr. Andrews previously said, here at Serenity we like to focus on what led to your addiction rather than solely the substance that brought you here to us. Our hope is to figure out where the addiction stemmed from and then reprogram the way you think, and heal you. Unlike other facilities, we offer mainly one-on-one therapy sessions. In these sessions, you’ll work with Dr. Andrews to uncover the issues that led you to begin the use of cocaine. After we address the issue, we will help you to learn new coping mechanisms to deal with your stressors. When you leave the center, you will be equipped to handle them and will hopefully not have a relapse.”
I nod. The rationale makes complete sense.
We continue to walk and Charlotte points to a room on the right as we continue our way down the hall. “These doors on your left, will bring you to our wonderful state-of-the-art spa. Also, in addition to the spa, we also have an array of specialized therapy programs you can take part in.”
“Such as?” my dad asks.
“An example is art therapy. Participants who choose this can create a piece such as a drawing or sculpture. During the process, an art therapist will be present to guide you through the emotions, feelings and thoughts behind the work and how it relates to your life and your addiction. If art isn’t for you, we also offer music therapy or nature hikes, as well as yoga and Reiki sessions.” She pushes open a large glass door and we step inside. The room is vast and spacious. A group of women is doing yoga.
“This looks fantastic,” my mom says. “How about phone privileges?” Apparently, my mom doesn’t want to go a day without speaking to me.
“Great question. You will have limited access to your phone and Wi-Fi. Only for emergencies and if that happens, we like to be fully informed.”
Am I really doing this?
Can I?
Yes. I can.