CHAPTER ONE
Prologue
Returning Home
I’m going to miss the looney bin.
When I got here over eight months ago I was practically catatonic. Back then I had no need for books, music, paints or any of the other objects I have acquired over my stay here. I look down at the red leather bound journal my father brought me during one of his visits. Once he heard I had started communicating with my journal he thought he would bring me something special to write in. Shaking my head I toss the journal into the suitcase sitting on my little twin size bed.
Looking around, the room isn’t more than four white walls and a large window. Now that I have removed pretty much everything in here that made it unique its just a big white box. There’s my little twin bed, a metal desk with a matching stool and a bookcase against the far wall by the bathroom. Honestly, if it weren’t for the bars on the windows and all the furniture being bolted to the floor and the wall this would look like a really boring dorm room. Like the one I used to have. I close my eyes and take a deep breath shaking off the memories that want to come flooding back every time I think about the past. Shaking it off I glance at my watching and realize I need to finish up packing because my dad is going to be here to pick me up soon.
Walking into the bathroom I double check that I got all my bath stuff when I catch my reflection in the mirror. For the longest time I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror. I would do everything possible to avoid my reflection. When I finally found the courage to look at myself again I didn’t recognize the person staring back at me. I used to have shiny healthy dark brown hair that was wavy and landed right above my shoulder. My brown eyes were generic, but they were always shining. I was very athletic so I used to walk around with a tan and considered myself to be pretty fit. Now the person I see staring back at me is pale with bags under their eyes. My hair reaches past my shoulders now. It hasn’t been cut in over a year so its dull and frizzy at the ends. I’m far skinnier than I have every been. I used to be healthy, now I need to gain a good ten pounds just to be in the healthy weight range, according to my doctors anyway. I think the thing that bothers me most is my eyes. There’s nothing there. A reflection of how I feel I guess. Numb. Empty. Tired.
Taking one last look at myself, I turn and head back to my room to see Linda my nurse standing at the foot of my bed with my medication and some forms. Linda and I have had a very tumultuous time together here, but now I think she helped me the most. She is this little old Italian lady who can’t be more than five feet tall and has a very small tolerance for bull shit. When I enter the room she looks up at me and smiles. Her smiles are always real and her eyes are kind. A rare thing in a place like this. Almost everyone else here either looks at you with disdain or worse, pity. Or they don’t look at you at all. To them you’re a patient, to her you’re a person.
“Today is the big day. Ready to get out of here?”
I don’t smile anymore, but if I did I would do it for her. I feel like she deserves a smile from me because of everything she has done for me, but honestly I’m not really sure those muscles in my face work anymore. I don’t really remember what its like to have something to smile about. Maybe that’s just who I am now, someone who can’t seem to find a reason to smile, or maybe just can’t find the energy for one. I know I have come a long way since I first came here, but them releasing me is by no means an indicator I’m 100%. Far from it, actually. What comes next is the harder part, figuring out how to rely on myself again.
“Yeah,” I say reaching for the little paper cup full of pills and the little glass of water. I’m a pro at this now so I down them all in one gulp. Open up to show her I swallowed all of them. After that I go back to my suitcase and zip it up. Sitting down on my bed I wait for Linda as she comes over and sits at the desk. She is pulling out forms I know I need to sign and then I can officially leave. Walk right out the front door. No more forced group therapy. No more staring out the window for hours on end imagining myself somewhere else while under constant supervision. Nobody there to keep a 24/7 watch on me. All of these things are both liberating and utterly terrifying.
I have spent so much time here, that I relied on these things to keep me going. Now I am going to have to learn how to function in the real world again. Something that was ultimately my decision after talking to my psychiatrist and she agreed that I had made a lot of progress and thought I was more than capable. Dr. Sasha Thompson isn’t someone who tells you what you want to hear. So if she agreed I was ready then she obviously saw what she needed to in order to sign off on my release. I know this is going to be hard, but I want to get better.
Don’t get me wrong, I am no great ball of free wheeling emotion right now, but I sure as fuck no longer want to die. When you come as close as I did you discover one of two things. One: your totally fucking ready and pissed that those pills you took didn’t do their fucking job. Two: You are still pissed it didn’t take but more than that dying scared the ever loving shit out of you.
Honestly, I’ve been both. At first I wanted nothing more than to be left alone so I could just finish it. End the pain. Sink back into that weightless darkness that was waiting for me on the other side. It made me feel warm and free. So fucking free. Then it sank in. Those last moments of thinking about my dad, hearing his screams for me to wake up when he put me in the shower. Feeling his fingers in my mouth trying to get me to throw up.
That was the worst part. Looking down at my hands I realize I’m clenching them so tight my knuckles have turned white. I close my eyes and do the breathing exercises Dr. Sasha taught me. In hale. One. Two. Three. Four. Exhale. One. Two. Three. Four. Again. Again. Again. When I finish my fourth cycle of breathing my heart is no longer racing and I have managed to unclench my hands. I use my right hand to reach up and check the pulse in my neck.
Strong.
Steady.
Alive.
“All right honey. Sign these forms and then I will take you down. Then we will officially check you out and I will take you to your dad for the final run through. He has been here for over an hour waiting. Said he was too restless to sit at home.”
She smiles at me and hands me the forms on a clipboard. After I sign the papers I wipe my palms on my pants. Im nervous, for the future and the past and just everything.
Did I make a mistake?
Am I really ready for this?
“Ok. We are good to go. Do you need help with your suitcase?”
“No. I got it.”
I pick up my suitcase and roll it behind me as we walk out of my room. Walking down the corridor we pass several of the people I have been in here with for the better part of a year. Martin, he was here before me, schizophrenic. Julia came in a few weeks ago, Anorexic. Declan has been here for years and it doesn’t look like he is ever going to be able to leave, Severe Psychosis. We get to the doors at the end of the hall and the receptionist on the other side buzzes us through. This place is part hospital and part prison.
They help you, but under lock and key only.
We walk into the lobby where I see my dad talking to Dr. Sasha. I’m sure he was keeping an eye out for me because I’m barely in the lobby before he spots me. My dad is a big guy at 6’5” and is still in shape from his time in the military. He still has his military buzz cut and he always wears combat boots. To anyone else he would look scary as hell, but to me he is nothing but a big teddy bear. I stop right in the middle of the lobby as soon as I get a good look at his face. He looks tired and maybe a little scared. For the first time it really hits me just how scary this must be for him. How hard it is for him to watch me go through all this and to be walking this uncertain road I have with me, waiting to catch me if I fall.
I drop my suitcase and the next thing I know I’m running. He meets me halfway across the room and catches me when I launch myself at him. I hug him tight and bury my face in his neck. He holds me just as tight, several inches off the ground.
This is home. This is safe. Always.
“Ready to go home ladybug?”
In that moment I know this is the right thing for me. I nod my head against his neck and hold on a little tighter, trying to hold back the tears.
This is what I’ve missed. I have a problem with strangers touching me and I have major anxiety when it comes to being in a room with other people, but right now I realize how much I have missed that human interaction. Especially, with my dad. He kisses the side of my head and puts me down. I lean back and I see the tears silently falling down his smiling face. He reaches up and cups my face, wiping the tears I didn’t even know were falling, off my face. I reach up and grab his hand and give it a good squeeze.
“Well, everything is set and Maggie is ready to go. I’ll call you tomorrow Maggie and we will set up your appointment for the day after tomorrow in my office in town. Ok?”
I look at Dr. Sasha and give her a small nod. She is tall for a woman, about five foot ten I would say. A natural red head and has the pale skin and the freckles to prove it. She always dresses in bright colors. Like today she has on a fuchsia pink silk blouse thats tucked into her high waisted black slacks. Her shoes, no kidding, are black and white polka dot high heels with freaking pink bows on them. Just looking at this woman I would never in a million years have guessed she would have been the one to help find my drive to live again. She seems so perky and positive on the outside, but in reality she’s a very calm and realistic person when it comes to therapy.
I think the clothes help her with the darkness she deals with on a daily basis. She helps women who have suffered violence or abuse. Mostly in cases of domestic violence or sexual assault. Dealing with me alone probably caused her to clean out the local Saks store of all things bright yellow just to compensate.
“Sounds good,” I look at my dad and he grabs my suitcase from Linda who rolled it over while we were having our moment.
He puts his arm around my shoulder as I hug his waist feeling 5 years old again. Wanting my daddy to hold me and make me feel safe. We get to the truck and before I get in I take one last look at the place that was both my haven and my prison. I wouldn’t have survived without this place, but I wish I had never been here in the first place. I take in the large columns lining the front of the building that looks more like an old southern plantation house than a hospital. The giant marble stairs leading up the huge metal double doors with iron gates in front of them. The trees that have already turned for fall and the lush landscaping around the pond off to the right. My bench. Right by the water where I spent a lot of my time just staring out at the lake thinking about the past and eventually started thinking about the future.
“Ready?”
I turn to look at my dad and who is looking at me like he has all the time in the world. I know what he’s asking me. Am I ready for whats next?
Honestly, I have no idea, but I can’t stay here. If I stayed I wouldn’t be staying for help I would be staying to hide. In no way feeling confident about my decision but knowing this is whats best I nod my head and give my bench one last look before climbing into the truck and closing the door.
Ready as I’ll ever be.