Reckless and Relentless

As I sat staring out the window of the passenger side of the car, I just watched everything pass me by. When we pulled up to the rehab facility it almost looked inviting to the naked eye. But I knew that’s how it was supposed to look if it didn’t look good on the outside what would make anyone want to venture inside. Part of me was pissed that I had to do this but a larger part of me was more terrified than angry. I usually didn’t do well outside of my comfort zone, I had used drugs for so long just to dull any feelings away. How was I going to deal with all my shit especially now when I had absolutely nothing to help me, no little pill to make it all go away and nothing sharp to let the pain just flow out of me. This has to be what hell is and I was about to willingly enter it. I must have been getting a little nuts now because even I wasn’t making any sense in my head. I turned to Zacky and tried to make an attempt to get out of this, maybe if I begged.

“Please don’t make me do this; I don’t want to go in there. If you get me out of this I swear I’ll try harder. I’ll do whatever you want, just please don’t make me do this. I know you don’t like me much anymore but please Zacky help me” I begged. I grabbed on his shirt and clutched it like a child would clutch their favorite blanket.

“Oh sweetheart if I didn’t like you do you think I would have taken all the abuse you’ve thrown at me every time we’ve been in the same room together. I care about you and I want to see you better and right now this is the best thing for you, me and the guys know that we can’t fix whatever’s going on in that pretty head of yours. Jimmy tried so hard and even he couldn’t do it.” He replied while removing my hands from his shirt.

“But what if what’s broken can never be fixed, what if it’s just broken forever.” I replied sadly.
“Now that I don’t believe at all because I know that you weren’t always like this. I remember the girl that always tagged along with her brother wherever he went. The girl that always tried to cover for her brother when he was in trouble, a girl that went so far as to lie and pretend that she stole the microphones in high school just because I got blamed for it and she didn’t want to see me get expelled. I know she’s still in there somewhere and I hope that this place helps her come back to the people that love her.”

“I guess we shall see, now won’t we” I replied.

“Yes I guess we will, I know we have a lot of our own crap to talk about but right now you just need to take care of yourself and get better. So when you’re released we can sit down and talk about everything.” He said.

“Alright I guess I should go in this god forsaken place” I groaned.

“Don’t walk into it with such a negative attitude”

I raised my eyebrows and rolled my eyes. ”Ok I’m positive this is a god forsaken place there are you happy now I’m trying to have a positive attitude” I replied sarcastically. I slowly dragged my suitcase and walked past the big glass doors, I turned around and waved goodbye to Zacky. In the same sense I was waving goodbye to my freedom once I checked in.

Once I checked in, they took my suitcase and searched through it. Did people really try to sneak stuff in here? While they were going through everything they pulled out an envelope that was in the front pocket of the suitcase and handed it over to me. I didn’t remember putting anything in the front pocket let alone an envelope. When I looked at the handwriting on the front I recognized it immediately. Zacky must have stuck it in there at some point after me packing it. I would read it later once I was all settled in my room. I was lucky in this type of facility we didn’t have to share rooms; each room had a half bathroom attached to it. But if you wanted to shower you had to go down the hall and use one of the showers.

I was required to attend group therapy 1-3 times a week and one on one therapy 5 times a week. I hated talking to new people how in the hell was I going to talk in front of a group of people I hardly even knew. Well they said participation was voluntary in group therapy as long as you showed up they didn’t care if you spoke or not. As long as you opened up to your therapist that’s all that counts. As long as you did all of your therapy sessions the rest of your time was your own to do what you wanted. They tried to give you a lot of options to keep your mind busy. Whatever you had an interest in they tried to accommodate you. They had an art room, a music room hell even a gardening room. If I wasn’t locked in you would almost think you were away at camp. But when they locked you down for the night all thoughts of this being like summer camp quickly disappeared like pumpkin pie at thanksgiving dinner.
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For the most part in the beginning I just wanted to keep to myself, constantly with my ipod music in my ears. I went to the group therapy sessions but never spoke a word everyone probably thought I was mute by now because I never spoke. When I went to my individual therapy session those I couldn’t just sit and stare at the wall the whole time. If I ever wanted to get out of this place I was going to have to start talking but with me talking was never easy. Keeping things in was just the way I chose to go. The only place I ever ventured to in this place was the music room, they had a few instruments. I could see that no one really came in here; I guess no one had any musical ability in this place. Better for me because I just wanted to be alone and I was sick of always being in my room. The only two things that I was somewhat decent at playing were the piano and the drums. My mom made me take piano lessons because that’s what she thought was appropriate for me and I hated it. I never really got into the piano but I could play a few things. After I bitched enough about the piano my mom just let me give it up, then just to piss her off Jimmy insisted on trying to teach me the drums. I picked up a few things here and there but I was definitely no Jimmy. He always said I was good but I knew he was better and I told him that all the time.

I just learned to make him happy, but with one condition that it stayed between me and him. I had no desire what so ever to play drums on any level, I didn’t want to be in a band or make music. I just liked to play for fun so he let me have my way; he kept it to himself that I could play like him. If I was having a particularly bad day I would just go in the music room and shut the door and sit behind the drum kit and play my heart out until I felt better. I knew that in my individual sessions my therapist was digging deeper and deeper into things that I really didn’t want to talk about. At first the sessions didn’t bother me so much we covered some of the more recent things such as Jimmy’s death and my apparent drug abuse. But she wasn’t going to give up until she got to the root of the problem. She knew that Jimmy’s death would have been hard on me; a death of someone that was such a major part in someone’s life is never easy to deal with. But from what was given to her from my past history and apparently she wanted some background on me and went so far as to contact each one of the guys to inquire about me and what I was like growing up, I knew that this lady wouldn’t stop until she had me all figured out. Damn these therapists and all their psychological bullshit.

I still had the envelope that was found in my suitcase, I still hadn’t opened it yet. I would eventually but for right now I had other shit to deal with.

“So Dani what would you like to talk about today?”

I was snapped out of my own inner thoughts and looked up at my therapist that sat on the other side of the desk. She was by no means intimidating looking maybe that’s why I didn’t have a hard time with talking to her.

“I don’t know what would you like to talk about Ms.Prince.” I replied.
“No need for such formal names you know that you can call me Colleen” she replied.
“Whatever makes you happy Colleen” I replied.
“Well let’s see we’ve talked about Jimmy a great deal and we’ve talked about all of your other friends. Why don’t we try and talk about what led you to need to use drugs as an escape.

Oh boy here we fuckin go and now it all will eventually come out, fuck my life. This lady was never going to let me out of this place if I didn’t open up and honestly I have been protecting this old wound for so long was I ready to open it back up for someone to pick at. Lucky for me the only good thing about this whole situation is doctor/patient confidentiality. Whatever I said to her could never leave her lips I knew that eventually I would have to explain what messed me up to the guys but that wouldn’t be for a very long time.