37. Aria
37
ARIA
T hree weeks after my first meeting with Dr . Goode , the changes in me are almost palpable. I feel…good. Twenty -one days without a drop of alcohol or a single line of coke—it’s a new record for me. I never thought I could make it this far.
My head is clearer, heartbeat steadier, but I still sweat sometimes, shivers overpowering my body, my system working through the last remnants of the poisons I once relied on and the withdrawal from them.
I’ve even started going to hot yoga again. Today , the instructor, who has become a good friend, asked if I would be her assistant a couple days a week. I signed up immediately. It’s great to be back in the studio, this time in a role that is meaningful. Yoga was my sanctuary before everything fell apart, and now it’s part of my healing journey.
As I leave class, there’s a lightness in my step that I haven’t felt in a long time. The warm, damp air of the studio still clings to my skin, but it’s comforting.
Working with flowers again has also brought a newfound happiness to my life. I had forgotten how much I love the delicate process of arranging blooms, the explosion of colors and scents. Seeing Dion’s greenhouse helped me rediscover a piece of myself that was buried under the weight of my addiction.
Dr . Goode’s words from the last session echo in my mind: quitting drugs and alcohol can seem easy at first, until your brain realizes what’s happening and tries to relapse . I know she’s right. The first few weeks are almost like a honeymoon phase, but the real challenge is yet to come.
Even now, the worst part is the cravings. My mind is a broken record, playing the same plea: just one more hit . But then, I think about the mistakes I’ve made, the people I’ll hurt if I don’t stop, and it motivates me enough to stay strong.
I’m excited about what the future holds, but I’m cautious, too.
I haven’t told Dion that I started therapy. Not because I’m embarrassed or shy, but I want my healing process to be something that’s only for me. I want to be responsible for my own mistakes. For my path to recovery to be clear.
I replay the events of the last few weeks in my mind. I still can’t believe it. Dion saved me from overdosing.
Despite the time and distance, he still came for me. Without hesitation.
Guilt made me want to push him away, tell him to leave, but I couldn’t. I needed him.
The truth is, I never stopped needing him, even when I convinced myself otherwise.
I thought staying away from him would make things better, easier somehow. But it didn’t. It only made the emptiness inside me grow, like a dark, gaping hole that nothing could fill.
Now , as I’m replaying it all, the shame is unbearable.
I let him see me at my lowest.
And even then, he did everything for me. He lifted me higher than I ever thought possible, reminding me of the power that resides within me.
As I close my eyes, I’m instantly transported back to the way he worshiped my body. Every touch, every kiss, seemed to erase the scars I gained in the past year. His embrace was like an anchor, embracing every part of me—the broken pieces and the ones still shining with resilience.
He made me feel beautiful, sexy, irresistible.
I may not have seen Dion in the past few weeks, but I know he’s still around in case I need him. I should be shocked, scared even, that he may know where I am at all times. But in some twisted way, it makes me feel safe. As if he’s an angel watching over me.