Mad Like Me

Yes, I actually went more than one day without writing anything. Why? Because I’ve just been so busy and so exhausted it’s just crazy and I can’t find the time or the energy to do daily updates. So:

I’ve been having panic attacks more often now. Even during the day. Not even going to describe it, they’re all pretty much the same, and I doubt you want to read the horrible description all over again.

I’m so scared. What if I’ve finally lost my mind? What if it’s never coming back? Dr. Gonzalez put me on a new drug. She still wants me to get acupuncture. I still say no.

You’ve probably noticed, Journal, that I don’t talk much about my therapy sessions in here. This is for two reasons. One, because it’s boring and aggravating and basically a hell that I don’t want to go back to. Second, because, if I grow old and don’t kill myself, I’ll want to remember the emotional stuff. Not the day-to-day life that makes me want to drive a drill into my skull because it’s just so boring puke.

Second order of business: Jay. It appears we have made up. How, you ask? I shall tell you, dear Journal.

My chest tightened as I felt the panic attack coming on. I dropped my lunch and ran out of the cafeteria, racing toward the janitor’s closet that had become my hideout in desperate times. I flung open the door, hoping to find solace in the soapy-smelling darkness. Instead I found Jay.

He looked just as surprised as I was. He raised a hand, waving slowly.

“H-hi,” he mumbled.

I realized that my mouth was hanging open. Say something!

“H-hey,” I stuttered. “Why… why are you in here? This is my spot.” Smooth, Cat.

“Actually, it’s my spot,” he said, reaching out a hand to me. I helped him up. “Or at least, during lunch hours.”

“Why aren’t you in the cafeteria?”

He laughed bitterly.

“Not really anywhere for me to sit,” he said. “Nowhere I feel comfortable, anyway. So I stay here during lunch.”

“You mean, you don’t eat?” I asked. I, for one, would probably pass out around 3PM without lunch, so this was said with a look of incredulity.

“No. To be honest, I actually think I’d rather starve than eat the crap they serve us here.” He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “So… yeah.”

“Oh,” I muttered, sensing I should go. “Um, yeah… I’m gonna go. Sorry for intruding on your space.” I turned and started walking away. Finding him had just about shocked the panic attack out of me, so at least I didn’t have that to worry about.

“Wait.” I heard Jay sigh. “Cat. We need to talk.”

“About what?” I asked, trying to be nonchalant about the whole thing.

“Oh, don’t give me that. You know exactly what I’m talking about, and it’s about time we both face it.”

I felt my shoulders slump in defeat.

“Fine. Where are we doing this? Closet, your room, my room, what?”

“My room works.”

We started walking, tension crackling in the air. My shoulders were set in stone, they were so stiff, and my head was held high, chin out, like that of a defiant woman being led to the gallows.

I stood up, arms crossed, while Jay sat down on the bed. He looked about as awkward as I felt: tense muscles, anxious expression. The overall effect was that of a frightened cat, and despite the heat of the moment, I couldn’t help but giggle at the comparison.

“What’s so funny?”

“I just pictured you as a scared cat.”

“Oh.” He paused, probably picturing it in his own head. “Yeah, that is pretty funny, actually. So. Yeah. How do we start?”

“Um…” I tried to make words come out of my mouth, but nothing worked. My throat was dry. “Maybe,” I croaked out, “we could start with me apologizing. I mean, I’m the reason that there’s even a problem, right? When I ran out like that?”

“That’s not really the problem,” he said. “At least, not to me. I’m more mad at myself than at you. I’m the reason you felt like that, right? From what I saw, I freaked you out by kissing you.”

“No!” I cried, waving my hands. “I mean, yes, I guess, but…”

“Face it, Cat: me kissing you caused you to have a panic attack, which lead to you finding Luna and Willow, which lead to you passing out and having night terrors. This whole mess started with me.”

“Wait,” I muttered, “Luna told you about that?”

“Oh, yeah. She tells me everything, for some reason. Apparently she deems me trustworthy.”

“Oh. Well, anyway,” I continued, “I just wanted to apologize for freaking out like that. I mean, any normal person would’ve just been happy, but I had to go all psycho-freak.”

Jay bit his lip. Lips that I kissed. And that I want to kiss again.

“Why are you standing?” he asked. “Sit down.”

Cautious, I lowered myself onto the bed, arms still crossed.

“If you’re psycho, then I’m stupid,” he said. “A stupid, stupid boy. And no matter what you say, I don’t think I’ll ever forget what caused this whole issue.” He fidgeted a bit, wringing his hands together. “Can I just ask you one question?”

“Yeah?”

“Were you…I mean, did you want the kiss? Or did you not want it, and that was why you ran?”

I was squirming myself at this point, and tried to relax, but nothing worked.

“I… I liked it. Don’t get me wrong, I liked it. It was just a shock. That’s what sets me off – when something shocks me. It wasn’t really you so much as the fact that it was my first kiss. It’s like, I knew it would happen eventually, but it felt like it would never come, you know?”

“That was your first kiss?” Jay asked. I nodded. “Good, ‘cause it was mine, too.”

“I thought you said you had a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, but we never went that far. Neither of us was brave enough to kiss the other in public, and we could never really get alone. So that was my first. I was looking at you, and I couldn’t help myself, and then I was just like, ‘oh, what the hell?’”

I allowed myself a small smile.

“Well, you were right.” I looked into his eyes in a way that pretty much screamed “kiss me now”. But he pulled away.

“Cat, I know that look. And I don’t know if it’s a good idea. I mean, if I give you another panic attack, I don’t think I could forgive myself.”

“Look,” I told him, placing one hand on his forearm. It was warm beneath the sleeve of his shirt, a contrast to my always-frozen fingers. “I won’t freak out, okay? I want this, and I’m pretty sure you do, too. If it happens again, the blame’s on me.”

Jay smiled slightly, as if he was still a little unsure.

“Alright then,” he said softly, bringing his hand up to my face. He kissed me lightly on the lips, and I felt the breath leave my body. How was it possible that something so innocent could be so…? In any case, I wrapped my arms around him, and he did the same to me, so obviously I was doing something right. The warm press of skin on skin left me wanting more, and I got it. Jay’s hands were knotted in my hair, and my lips grazed along his jaw, pushing our faces together.

Somehow we’d fallen sideways onto the bed. I only noticed once things had finally cooled down. I looked up at Jay. Our faces were maybe two inches apart, our bodies pressed together.

“That was hot,” I breathed.

Jay responded by giving me a peck on the cheek.

“That’s because you’re hot,” he whispered. I just rested my head on his chest and smiled.

So yes, I assume we’re all good now. This happened yesterday, BTW.

Alright. Next on the crazy list.

The 18th was a visiting day. As in, people could visit us. As in, I had to see my parents.

They led me down the hall. I felt like I was floating. I’d rather be walking on glass. Icy splinters would be much preferable to seeing them.

I was shivering in my drab hospital uniform. Damn A/C. My hair was unwashed, unbrushed, and a hand to my cheek confirmed that my skin was oily, greasy – new pimples every day without my skin care regimen. For a second I wondered what they’d think of me, deteriorated not only in mind but in body as well. I had to remind myself that I didn’t care.

The nameless nurse stopped at one of the conference rooms, which I’d learned were just therapy rooms without more chairs and less clutter. She opened the door for me and nudged me in. Dr. Gonzalez was seated at the desk in front of me. Turn. Look at them. I steeled myself and glanced towards my parents.

Mom looked prim and perfect, as usual, flaunting her gorgeous body in a crisp button-down. But I knew her too well; I could tell when she was upset. She was wringing her home-manicured hands in distress.

Dad sat beside her, a hand on her arm. Unlike Mom, he betrayed nothing of what he felt. Those chilling blue eyes were the perfect accessory to his frigid personality.

“Have a seat, Cat.”

I slumped in the oversized chair. Seriously, I was lost in the thing. Obviously they did not have us midgets in mind when they furnished this place.

For the longest time we just stared at each other. I wanted to scream, Why did you send me here? Why did you abandon me? You promised you wouldn’t give up hope!

You promised you loved me.

The first words out of my father’s mouth:

“What happened to you?”

That just about knocked the breath out of me. But I got it back quick enough to berate him.

“What happened to me?” I hissed. “What happened to me? Let’s see. I went stark raving mad. I spent years bouncing back and forth between therapists. I was promised love, and hope, and that you would never give up on me. And then I was sent to the loony bin. Guess what, Dad? That type of thing tends to take a toll on one’s appearance.”

They were silent.

“We didn’t give up on you, Cat,” my mother whispered, her voice quavering. “We sent you here to regain hope. These are the only people who can help you.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Maybe they can help me. But you know what else would help me?”

They waited.

“A night at home where I didn’t have to listen to my mother being beat.”

They all just sat there for a moment, taken aback by what I’d said. Finally, the doctor spoke.

“Is this true, Mr. Charosky?”

“She’s lying,” my father said simply. “She’s not stable. This must be part of her schizophrenia. She was having hallucinations. I’ve read about that. Audio hallucinations.”

“It was no hallucination, father.” I turned to Dr. Gonzalez. “It’s true. At least once a week. Since I was diagnosed. I fell asleep to her sobs.”

Tears were pouring down my mother’s cheeks. Mom. Don’t cry.

“Mrs. Charosky. Can you verify this?”

My mother opened her mouth, closed it again. Finally she whispered something unintelligible.

“Speak up, Mrs. Charosky.”

“She’s hallucinating,” my mother said. “It’s not true.”

For a second, I actually believed her. But the trembling of her shoulders, the relief in my father’s eyes, proved it to me.

“They’re the ones lying!” I shouted. “Of course they would deny it! They’re scared. He’s scared of prison, and she’s scared of him. You have to believe me, Dr. Gonzalez. It… her screams echo in my mind every night. I think that why I got this far, to be honest.” Hot tears welled up in my eyes, but I didn’t dare let them overflow.

Dr. Gonzalez looked between us, my father and I, glaring daggers at each other. If looks could kill… I’d be six feet under right now.

“Mr. and Mrs. Charosky, I’m afraid I must ask you to leave. Your presence is obviously not helping your daughter. Cat, I’m going to ask you to stay in here so we can talk.”

My parents shuffled out of the room, avoiding my gaze. I think I heard my mother murmur a goodbye, but I didn’t reply. Once the door shut I turned to Dr. Gonzalez.

“You believe me, right?” I asked. “Please tell me you believe me.”

“Hold up,” she said. “Let’s hear some more details. You say that this all started after you were diagnosed? Diagnosed with what, exactly?”

“OCD. This was when I was maybe nine, ten years old. I’d been having obsessive thoughts, scary thoughts. I wasn’t paranoid yet, though. And I wasn’t hallucinating yet. That didn’t start until I was thirteen. That’s how I know it was real.”

“I see. Do you remember what doctors you went to? I need to verify the progression of your illness with them, see if you’re remembering right.”

“Dr. Waltz was my first doctor,” I sighed, relieved that I might actually convince her. “I went to him for about a year. Then he retired when I was twelve, and I bounced back and forth between some other psychiatrists – I don’t remember their names – before we settled on Dr. Tao. Dr. Tao’s been my doctor up until now.”

“Alright,” sighed Dr. Gonzalez. “I’ll make some calls, have all your files delivered. We have some, but not all of them. But Cat? Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“You’d never lie to me, right?”

The question hit me like a smack to the face.

“Of course not, Doctor. I learned a long time ago that lies get you nowhere in therapy.”

“Because you understand that these are very serious accusations you are making. Has your father ever hit you?”

“Not that I can remember,” I said. “And I’m pretty sure I’d remember that.”

“Ok. You are dismissed.”

Aye aye aye, Journal. What a mess this is. Even now, doubt’s creeping into my mind. What if it was a hallucination? What if I’m remembering wrong? It’s gotten to the point where I can’t even trust my own mind. And that’s a scary thing.

I feel kind of bad for not telling you earlier, Journal. But I couldn’t. I guess I hoped it would just go away.

I’m going to bed. See if I actually get some sleep tonight.