Group Sessions

Kevin and I changed very little after I got the job. He would spend most days sober and I would spend most nights being held by him. It was a happy and very simple time for us. I thought that this is how we would be forever. That all our tomorrows would stretch out and be as beautifully simple as the one before it. I was so naive and hopeless. I had no idea how deep Kevin’s wounds were. I was unaware that the scars on his skin pale when compared to those on his mind, and heart. That by the time I had met Kevin he was beyond healing in some places. I remember at times waking up to his screams thinking it was only a bad dream. Not finding out until it was too late that it was no dream; it was the memories that made him scream out at night.

I can still I remember how our relationship declined as clear as day. Kevin and I had been doing reasonable well for ourselves after I had gotten the job. Our combined incomes were more than enough to get by, our jobs themselves were stable. In fact I dare say we were not only happy maybe even blissfully so. The first year at my office job was the very best year there. I had such sweet coworkers and a kind hearted boss. They always sent Kevin and me gifts for the home or flowers for our progress in society. They even celebrated my wedding anniversary by getting me a cake and some balloons. I still have the card they gave me, with all their signatures and kind thoughts. Kevin and I continued going to the endless ongoing sessions together. This was in an effort to make our relationship with our parents improve. It truly worked wonders for Kevin and his parents.

They became closer than ever, this of course was good for them since they endure the loss of Kevin’s brother together. They were always at the house for dinner, and taking us to the movies. They would call at least twice a week and sometimes sent over cooked meals for Kevin and me to fully enjoy our days off. They became like the parents I always wanted but never really had until them. I adore them so, even now as I think about them. I could see that it was from them that Kevin got all his kindness from. I was a part of a family and Kevin was smiling more than he had in years. Everything was so perfect, until Kevin started to slip back again.

It happened out of nowhere, things getting bad that is. Kevin started fighting at work, losing his job and getting arrested a few times. I was saddened for him; but mostly I was worried about him. I wanted to make things better, to make him feel better. No matter what effort I made nothing was helping and I was starting to feel not good enough. With my self esteem falling and my husband falling apart, my world began to crumble. The worst was on this one particular night that I was bailing Kevin out. It was raining badly and Kevin wouldn’t even look at me. I started crying in the middle of the street, begging Kevin to tell me what’s wrong. Then I finally got the reason why out of him. I still think it was my tears that got to him and not my words.

He told me that the guy who killed his brother had been released from prison. His hands were shaking as he said each word very slowly. Now I knew that all of this was a result of Kevin was clearly taking the news hard. I felt helpless and better all at once now that understood everything. The next few weeks didn’t get any easier. Kevin rarely rose from bed and I felt it take a strange toll on me. I was exhausted from caring for him, the bills, the house, the sessions, everything was too much. I was struggling with urges I thought had long died. I had been clean for months; in fact I even could be around people without panicking. Kevin’s set back had me afraid that I would soon slip under again. Instead something much much worse happened instead. Kevin started picking fights with me, about everything. I knew he was trying to push me away but that didn’t make it hurt any less. I would go to bed crying almost every night and he would storm out leaving me to cope alone. When the arguments stopped he started leaving without coming home for days. I never knew where he had gone. Then one day he never came at all.

We filed missing person’s reports, we gave the police everything we could to help them find him but we never heard a word back. Months turned into a year and his family started to mourn his death. I refused to mourn with them. He couldn’t be dead; I didn’t feel it in my heart. I never moved on, I refused to date. My husband is out there alive and I will not betray him. I know that he stills need me and when he is ready I would be here waiting. I guess that’s how I ended up in here. My in-laws are paying the rent on our apartment until I get released. Insane with grief, that’s what the courts said when they threw me in here. I wasn’t trying to kill myself honest; I was just trying to feel Kevin again. His touch, his kisses, his eyes, all linked to the kiss of a razor blade on my skin. That’s why I am sitting in this circle with a few familiar faces in the loony bin two miles from the town’s edge. That’s why I am sharing this story with you guys, because it has started to eat me up on the inside. I just can’t take it anymore.

I miss him so much, you know. In my dreams I still hear his laughter, and see his dark rimmed sapphire blue eyes pierce the very thoughts in my mind. I am happy they let me bring his journals with me in here. So I could read all his thoughts, and have him close to me like he was before. Sometimes I hate him; I mean if I had never met him maybe I wouldn’t be here right now. Or I could have ended up here sooner. Either way he is constantly on my mind and I think of little else. On my nightstand there is a picture of us, holding hands in the park our matching scars showing. I trace his within the picture frame and hope that wherever he is that he still thinks of me and maybe he will even come back to me. Maybe one day I will be able to taste the flavor of love that was always clinging to his lips.