Therapy (36 page)

“Kingsley!” I scream.

Excruciating pain.

Darkness.

It feels as if someone is hammering through my head and a dull throbbing has set up shop in my neck.

“Ma’am, you’re okay. Can you open your eyes for us? Can you hear me, ma’am?” A muffled voice asks. It’s a male voice, one I’ve never heard before.

I force my eyes open and the sunlight blinds me. I try to reach up toward the pain in my head, but someone stops me from moving. I’m disoriented and my vision is blurry.

“Ma’am, please, stay still. You have a concussion. We’re getting you into the next ambulance so we can get you to the hospital with your friend.”

My friend... Oh my God, Kingsley! My foggy mind starts to clear in the heat of panic and I remember. A pickup truck came around the corner into our lane and hit us head-on.

“Where is he? Tell me, is he okay?” My voice is raspy and my throat’s dry.

“I don’t know, ma’am. We’ll get you transported soon and get you taken care of. Just stay calm. I’m sure everything’s going to be okay with your friend too.”

He places an oxygen mask over my face and I try to breathe. It’s all going to be fine, it has to be. It just has to be. Kingsley is big and strong. If I’m okay, then he’s definitely okay, right? I’m shifted onto a gurney and there’s people hustling all around me. I’m hoisted up into an ambulance and they slam the doors shut behind me. Pain radiates throughout my head and I close my eyes, grimacing at the intensity of it. The shock and disbelief of the situation is second only to my injuries. All I want to do is get to the hospital and find out if Kingsley is okay.

“Listen to me, I want to know if Kingsley Arrington is okay. I’m fine! I have a concussion, okay, I get that, but I want to see my friend. Why won’t anyone tell me how he is, dammit?”

“Ms. Alexander, please calm down. I’m Nurse Hamilton and I promise that I’ll find out about your friend. You do have a visitor. If you’re up to it, we can let your brother in.”

“My brother?” There’s no way he could get here that fast or even be notified yet.

“Yes, he’s just out in the hallway. Do you want to see him?”

I just nod. I’m exhausted and have the worst headache of my life. If he is here, I’m sure he thinks this was another one of my drunken escapades.

“She needs to rest, so please make it short.” I hear the nurse say, and then Jace walks in.

Definitely not my brother.

“Oh my God, Jess, I’m so glad you’re okay,” he says as he rushes over to my bed. The relief on his face is obvious. “We came upon the accident after the service and I saw them putting you in an ambulance. They only let family in, so I lied. Sorry,” he says sheepishly.

“It’s okay, Jace. I’m fine, really. Thank you for checking on me.”

“Do you need me to contact your family? Do they know you’re in the hospital?”

“No, they don’t know and I’d rather they didn’t. I’m fine. I’m sure I’ll be out of here soon.” Seeing my parents here, like this, after not seeing them for so long is the last thing I want. I still have way too much to resolve mentally and emotionally about my parents.

“Okay, I just thought I’d offer. Do you need anything at all?”

“No, I guess not. I’m waiting to see how Kingsley is and no one will tell me. That nurse is supposed to be finding out. I’m sure he’s all right, but I want to know. I blacked out on impact and I don’t remember much of anything.”

He looks as if he’s at a loss for words. It sucks. He just buried his mom and now here he is listening to me ask about another guy.

“Do you want me to go see what I can find out?”

“Jace, you’ve had a lot on your shoulders today. You don’t have to do anything. You should go home and get some rest after all you’ve been through the past few days.” I don’t want to, but I ask anyway, “Where’s Victoria?”

He sighs. “She’s in the waiting area.”

“Oh. Well you should definitely go, then. I’m sure this is the last damn place she wants to be.”

At that moment, two police officers enter the room. I have absolutely no idea why they would be here to see me.

“Excuse us, Miss. We need to speak to you regarding the accident, if you don’t mind.”

“Uh, yeah sure. Why, what is it?” I ask nervously.

“Ma’am, the vehicle that hit you was being operated by a drunk driver. We just need to confirm a couple minor details for our report, that’s all.”

“Okay.”

“Do you remember seeing the other vehicle?”

“Yes, I do, but it all happened so fast. I only really saw the pickup truck for a moment before everything went black. It swerved into our lane, but that’s the last thing I remember.”

“All right, thank you. We pretty much have everything we need, but we wanted to see if you had anything to add about what happened before impact.”

The ER doctor walks in behind Jace and the police officers and she looks different, really different. Her face is somber and she won’t make eye contact with me. This is bad. I know it.

“If all of you don’t mind, I need to speak to the patient alone,” she says.

My heart kicks up and I want her to stop. I don’t want to hear whatever she’s about to tell me. Why can’t I just rewind time and go back? Something terrible is looming and I don’t want to face it. Tears well up in my eyes and my chin starts to tremble before she even says the words.

Shut up.

Shut up.

Shut up.

Don’t say it.

“Ma’am, I’m so sorry, but your friend was seriously injured. My team and I did everything we could, but Mr. Arrington didn’t make it.”

Now home from the hospital, I have a million unanswered texts from Mercedes. I drop the phone on the bed and open my nightstand with trembling hands. The tears won’t stop pouring down my face. They remind me that I’m here, that I can cry, that I’m alive. I should be dead. It should be me instead of Kingsley. He should be here, living. He had purpose; he had a life.

The reality of his death continues to tear through me and all I want is to make it stop. I grab a razor and absently note how it gleams as I flip it between my fingers. Staring at the blade through tears, only seeing a blur, I squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t want to live another minute in this life that I hate. I extend my left arm and see the veins laced beneath my pale, thin skin. Blood is pumping through them, begging to be released. I bring the razor’s edge to my arm, pushing down until I feel the initial sting of my breaking flesh. The blood trickles out and adrenaline buzzes through my body. The sadness in my tears mixes with the relief in my blood. Every nerve ending is on high alert. I drag the blade slowly down the inside of my forearm toward my wrist. The farther I go, the harder I push down. The blood isn’t trickling anymore. It’s flowing out much faster, streaming in red rivulets down the side of my flesh, pooling on the floor below me. Suddenly, I feel like I’m floating and the sting starts to subside. The ache inside of me lessens; everything seems to be moving in slow motion. The blood keeps coming, but now all I see are spots, like a smoky afterimage of fireworks in a dark night sky. I’m so lightheaded and in a vague way, I realize that I’ve cut myself deeper than I ever have before. The blade drops to the floor, and, as if from far away, I hear the tiny piece of metal bounce off the ceramic tile. Grasping my arm, I try to squeeze the cut shut, but the bleeding doesn’t slow down.

Fear.

I should feel fear. I should be terrified, but I’m not. Life is either about pressing the continue or quit button. I can’t press continue anymore. My world slowly fades to blackness and I quit.

“The great thing in the world is not so much where we stand, as in what direction we are moving.”

—Oliver Wendall Holmes

Three months later…

DEATH IS A multi-dimensional thing and the many facets of dealing with it affect each human being differently. This morning, like every morning since that tragic accident happened, I wake up with an intense ache in my heart. How much time is enough before the ache goes away? I certainly don’t know, but I really wish I did, because it hurts and it hurts deeply. I’m here in the present, trying to stop living in the past. I replay my days and little moments with Kingsley over and over in my mind. I’m so scared that I’ll forget him. I’m scared of forgetting how he smelled, what his hugs felt like, or how bright his smile was. I find myself clinging to a moment, a memory, going over each and every detail carefully, because I don’t ever want to forget. I’d do anything to have him walk in the door right now and say something completely crass just so I could argue with him. He’d be so angry with me for what I did after being released from the hospital that week. I would be dead if Mercedes hadn’t come to check on me. After my suicide attempt, I was committed to this inpatient mental health facility. My therapist, Janice, says I get to leave next week, and though I should be happy about that, the truth is I’m beyond terrified. I’ve come a long way over the past three months and I know this was the best place for me to be. Hopelessness and debilitating sorrow crippled me after learning that Kingsley was gone. The worst part was learning the rest of the story. It was like a horror film unfolding in front of me. Looking back, the memory still moves in slow agonizing motion.

“Ms. Alexander, we are very sorry to inform you that the person who hit you in the accident was your mother.”

Those words will forever be etched in my mind. My mother. She was drunk and driving, just like I’ve done so many times myself, and she killed a beautiful person that I loved. Trying to swallow that reality and face the hard truth of it isn’t something that I’ve handled well at all. Therapy has been hard, really hard. Janice wasn’t kidding when she said I’d hate her some days. I’ve hated her lots of days. Surprisingly, Mercedes has visited me every week without fail. I’ve never had a close girlfriend before and it’s nice. She’s hilarious and makes me laugh, even though laughing isn’t something that I do often. She brings me books and although I’ve never been much of a reader, I’m totally addicted now. She brought me a book the first day she visited and I let it sit on my bedside table for two weeks. One day, I finally picked it up out of pure boredom and I didn’t put it down until I’d finished. The next time she visited, I told her I had to have the second book of the series. She just laughed at me and pulled it out of her bag. Book two was just as good and I devoured every page. When I finished, I felt like a different person. The story was fiction, but the messages were not. During the hours I spent reading, I was given a reprieve from the pain of my reality. I felt hopeful and I’m sure I’ll never look at books the same again. The girl in the book got schooled by a boy and I was completely schooled by the author of those books. They inspired me to live with an emphasis on life. A knock at my door rattles me out of my deep thoughts.

“Yeah, come in,” I call out.

“It’s phone call time. Do you want to make any calls today, Ms. Jessica?” Nurse Gail asks. She’s a sweet older lady and I’ve grown to really appreciate her. I shake my head no.

“All right, Ms. Jessica, I just wanted to ask.”

I never make calls. I have no one to call. Jace has written me many times, but I never write back. I don’t know what to say to him. I’ve been dealing with so much hatred and fighting the never-ending voices in my head that I really haven’t wanted to talk to anyone. I’ve been too busy facing demons. Jace holds so many reminders of my past that I don’t know how to continue any type of relationship with him. I still love him very much and I know that no amount of time will ever erase who we are to each other. But he has his own life, he’s moving on, and I have to respect that. I can’t continue to hang on to something that I lost long ago.

I’ve decided to talk for the first time in my DBT group today and I’m nervous, really nervous. I stand up and make my way to the podium set up in front of the semi-circle. My palms are sweaty and if my mouth gets any drier, I may not get one word out. Janice gives me an encouraging smile and I take a deep, calming breath.

“Hi, I’m Jessica, and I have borderline personality disorder. I’m here for a suicide attempt and I’m a cutter. Three months ago, I lost someone who loved me in spite of all these things. He loved me for me, and for the first time in my life, I loved someone back for the simple reason that it was how I felt. I didn’t want to gain anything from it and I didn’t try to manipulate it. His name was Kingsley,” I swallow before going on. “He was a sarcastic asshole a lot of times and I loved that about him. He never let me bullshit him and he never allowed me to pity myself.” I pause, needing to take a moment before I break down. Retaining my composure, I continue. “He encouraged me, empowered me, and supported me, always reminding me of the possibilities and choices each day presented. He was a beautiful person and even though it hurts like hell missing him, I’m so glad I knew him. I’ve been on such a terribly unhealthy cycle with men all of my life. Honestly, I never knew what a healthy relationship was until Kingsley. Sex and drama were all I really knew. My emotions always drove me to dark places, and every relationship I’d ever had ended because of my bad decisions. The constant belief that I need a man in my life to complete me has haunted me for as long as I can remember. It’s something that I struggle with every day. Needing someone to love me and want me has always driven me to the brink of madness.” I straighten my shoulders and shift my weight from one foot to the other anxiously before I try to get the rest of my words out.

“The past three months have opened my eyes to so much. I know I have a really far and tough journey ahead of me with my therapy, but where I am today is so much closer to wellness than I’ve ever come before. This morning, I stood in front of the mirror. The reflection staring back at me was still a damaged girl, but I know her better than I ever have before. Knowing yourself after being a stranger to who you are all of your life brings a lot into focus. I’ve always seen a stranger looking back at me, but today, I didn’t.” I make eye contact with Janice and she’s smiling proudly.

“Just like many of you, I’ve always blamed the world around me for all of my pain, but I’ve learned in DBT that I have control over many things in my world, like my choices. It’s scary to take responsibility for my actions after always acting before thinking, but I’m determined to follow the skills I’ve learned here.” Everyone’s eyes are on me and the room is completely silent. I keep talking and it feels damn good to get it all out.

“I’m so very tired of being held prisoner by my own mind. As I looked in the mirror today, I saw a woman that’s been through hell and back, but a woman that’s survived her past. I know that I can do this, and I refuse to let anything stop me. Life can push me, pull me, and beat me down, but it’s not going to break me. I’ve been broken before, I’ve been bound and I’ve survived. There’s a me that has hidden beneath pain all my life, but no more. And I have to say, I kinda like the girl I saw today. She’s stronger, she’s a fighter, and she doesn’t need a man’s love to validate her. She doesn’t need people to like her to let her know she matters, because she does matter. She can love herself. And until she can walk through each day knowing these things absolutely, with pure faith in herself, having a guy in her life isn’t a priority.” A few people wipe tears from their eyes and I know that my story is hitting home for them.

“I saw me today, and today, I don’t hate me. It’s time that I get to know the girl staring back at me in that mirror better. It’s time to have a love affair with myself, time to live my life for me for once. No longer can I allow my mistakes to dictate my future. Janice told me once that life begins at the end of your comfort zone and I’m prepared to live my life, no matter how uncomfortable it may feel.” With every word I speak another bar breaks in my mind. It’s a prison I’ve waited a long time to escape.

“I don’t remember who said it, but a self-proclaimed quotaholic friend of mine shared one of her favorite quotes with me recently. It talks about what lies behind us, before us, and within us. It really made me think about what I’ve learned over the past few months. I’ve learned that what lies in front of me is all that matters. What has been left behind is nothing compared to the strength that lies within me. A part of me died that day with Kingsley, but I think sometimes something in us has to die completely for there to be a rebirth. I’m ready. Today, Jessica Alexander starts to live, learns to love herself, and begins to shed the ghosts of her past.”