Chapter 5
Cassidy
Journey to healing
Rehab roundhouse kicked my ass. We had to adhere to a strict schedule of group and individual therapies where we would discuss why we were there and how to avoid returning.
My least favorite part of therapy was talking about my feelings, seeing as how historically that was always met with a fist to the face.
It was always ‘ you have nothing to cry about’ or ‘I’ll give you a reason to cry’, followed by the smacking sound of a fist meeting flesh.
My body always braced for the blow that never came.
Still, I spent a lot of time fighting and challenging the therapist. What would sharing my feelings do?
No matter how much I challenged my group leaders, they’d always push back.
Listening to others share their stories gave me the courage I needed.
Each time I talked during group therapy, my chest became less tight. For the first time, I felt free.
I’m gathering everything into my suitcase when I hear a knock on my door. “Come in.”
I am interrupted mid-packing to see my therapist, Jason, standing in the doorway.
He stands a few inches shorter than me with wavy blonde hair and blue eyes.
He’s wearing his usual uniform: a knee-length cardigan over a white t-shirt and dark-wash jeans.
He might look friendly on the outside, but he’s a no-bullshit guy underneath it all.
We didn’t click at the beginning of our sessions, with me challenging his authority more often than not.
As time went on, I began to lower my defenses and identified that he wasn't actually a threat.
Slowly, I stopped challenging his every move and began to understand and appreciate his methods.
Honestly, he gave me the kick in the ass I deserved.
“It's discharge day. You’ve come a long way in the three months since you've been here. How are we feeling?” he asks.
“I feel good, a lot stronger than before. I feel like I've learned a lot about myself. Plus, I miss sleeping in my own bed. And it's all thanks to some hard-ass counselor who liked putting me in my place. I feel like I finally have a good head on my shoulders.”
“I remember a bullheaded know-it-all who tried to manipulate me into seeing things his way.
It's been an absolute pleasure to watch you let go of your stubbornness and began to accept other people’s perspectives.
That's not an easy feat.” I find myself laughing at that, but my smile immediately falls when I see the look on his face.
“What?” My body tenses and it feels like a million pine needles are poking me.
“How are you feeling about seeing Avery again?” he asks.
I wince. “Honestly? I’m nervous as hell to see her. I understand why she wants space, I hurt her too much," I let out a frustrated sigh while racking my fingers through my hair.
"I sense a but coming." Damn Jason for being so astute.
"But I’m still so pissed she ended our friendship in the form of a letter instead of having an actual conversation,” I all but growl at Jason.
I could have kept this all in my head and overanalyzed every detail, but it feels counterproductive to what rehab has taught me.
Look at me, learning shit from therapy. A chance a glance at Jason and see his lips pursed, wearing a now familiar challenging expression across his face.
And I have a feeling I won't like what he's about to say.
“Just tell me,” I sigh.
“I'm going to need you to be honest with yourself here. If she told you in person, would you have let her go?” he asks.
“I…fuck, you're right. I probably would have done anything and everything to bargain with Avery. Knowing me, I'd have filled her head with false hope and broken promises.”
“I'm glad you're using some of that self-reflection we learned.
I'm going to need you to hold onto that when it comes time to seeing her again. You are in charge of your emotions, not Avery. And if you want to fix that friendship like we talked about, you need to keep your emotions in check. If you find yourself getting too heated, pause for a moment before anger forces you to say something you’ll later regret.
“That being said, that's not the reason for this visit.
I think it would be beneficial for you to continue therapy when you leave.
You still have an unhealthy view when it comes to your anxiety, and I think you need more than three months to work on it.
We've also only scratched the surface of why you chose to use drugs, and as much as I want to help you, it’s beyond my scope of practice.
Here are a couple of referrals for you to use, if you want.
It's imperative to deal with the traumas we face in life and I think therapy will continue to be helpful,” he says.
“I'm not sure I want to continue therapy. As much as it helped me, I'm a little burned out.” I take the resources from his outstretched hand and mutter my thanks.
He nods and glances down at his watch. “Well, it was a pleasure working with you, Cas. I mean this in the nicest way possible. I don't want to see you back here again. Take care of yourself,” he says.
I shake my head while laughing. “Thank you for everything you've done for me. I appreciate it.” Gratefulness swims behind my expression as appreciation for everything he's done for moats my voice. He just nods his head and walks out the door.
I race against the clock to pack the rest of my stuff before heading downstairs to wait for my grandparents to arrive.
I sign myself out at the front desk and collect the remainder of my personal belongings taken from me upon entry.
They took our electronics away, wanting us to focus on our recovery.
Holding it in my hand now, I realize how much of a blessing it was not having it.
I make my way outside, planning to sit and wait, but then I see my grandparents' black Honda CR-V pull up. The car jolts to a stop and I find myself crushed between them in the tightest bear hug, only seconds after they exited their vehicle.
“Hello to you, too.” My words come out breathless as they hug the life out of me.
“I missed you, too, but y’all are about to cut off my air supply.
” When I step back, I see the tears swimming behind my gram’s eyes.
Seeing her cry is a shock to my system. She’s tough as nails and it breaks my heart all the more when she cries.
“We’ve missed you so much. We're so glad you’re coming home,” Gram chokes out.
“You look good, kid,” Gramps says.
“I feel like I'm finally in a healthy place. My mind is a lot clearer than it was three months ago. Now, can you help me load all this stuff? I want to go home and sleep in my bed.”
“Of course, of course. Let's go, '' Gram practically shouts as she and my grandfather throw my stuff in the trunk.
I can't shake the feeling they want to tell me something but aren't sure how to broach the subject. You could cut the tension in the car with a knife. I’ve had one thing, well, one person, on my mind since that dream.
I’ve asked my grandparents about Avery too many times.
They probably think I’m pathetic. I felt ridiculous, but I needed to know she was okay.
I open my mouth to ask them about her, but no words come out.
As we drive home, I realize we’ll finally be in the same vicinity again.
That thought both relaxes and terrifies me.
I take a deep breath, finally getting the courage to ask about her, but my grandmother beats me to it.
“We went to see Avery the other day,” she says.
“Oh? H-how is she doing?” My words stammer out of my mouth, only to be met with silence. This heavy, unsettling feeling nestles in the pit of my stomach and bile feels thick in the back of my throat.
“What's wrong? Is she okay? Is she hurt?” I demand.
“She's hurting, Cas. We went over to talk to her, see how she was doing.
She's still struggling with everything. I know you want her back in your life, but it might be more difficult than you thought.” Defeat wraps my body in barbed-wire chains, threatening to poke holes in the small sliver of hope I have.
“Oh,” was all I could say. What else did I expect? Did I think she’d forgive me just like before? I mean, during rehab, I held onto a string of hope that we’d work through this. My grandmother’s words are the scissors that cut that string in half.
My gram reaches out to hold my hand, offering her support.
“Cas, you have to give her time. Things haven’t been easy for either of you.
I truly believe everything will work out how they’re supposed to.
Don’t give up on her. But most importantly, don’t give up on yourself.
We just got you back. We can’t lose you again. ”
Rationally, I know she makes sense, but I’m so disheartened by everything that I question things.
A part of me wishes I would have died in that hospital because the pain of losing Avery forever is too much to bear.
Speaking of losing Avery, her letter echoes in my head.
It’s a letter I’ve read so many times I could probably recite it word for word.
My Dearest Cas,