Through the Dark

Forest Haven, Wolverhampton’s only rehabilitation center was my home. It had been my home for the last six months. I had grown accustomed to the uncomfortable beds with worn out springs that induced most of my sleepless nights I endured. Theodore’s horrible body odor had become something familiar and almost comforting. The way Florence would pick at her food meticulously with the prong farthest left on the fork was something I no longer questioned. Everybody that had welcomes me with open arms was my family which in turn made Forest Haven my home.

It wasn’t that I didn’t miss my mum, Linda, because I did – honestly. My mum had always been my best friend for as long as I could remember. She was my confidante – the one that I could trust with anything and everything. That was until Timothy came along; a gym owner with certain asshole tendencies that seemed to rub off on my mother rather quickly. For the first time in almost six years Linda had made me cry. It wasn’t something simple like she denied me my favorite ice cream bar. No – my mum said I was a mistake…a bastard child with a good-for-nothing father. She said that I would never amount to anything. I only got decent grades in college and it wasn’t like I played any sports. So according to my mother, laziness was not going to pay my way through University. Who even said that after all of the ridiculed I suffered through in my previous years I would want to attend University?

I guess that’s when everything started to go downhill for me. At first it wasn’t so much body issues that plagued my every thought – it was my self-worth. It was the summer so I didn’t have to worry about going to college five days out of the week. I could stay in my room without a soul to bother me. The year before I was on vacation with my mum and my Aunt Constance in Ibiza – something I firmly stated I wanted no part of ever again. Instead, my Joy Division records remained on repeat much like the previous three weeks.

That’s when the binging began I guess; junk food for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Whatever was in the pantry whether it be Cadbury Eggs from the preceding holidays, crisps, or Blue Ribands my mother kept hidden for herself… I ate it all. I mean – I would hoard loads at a time and just sit in my room eating and eating. It didn’t matter whether my stomach writhed in pain from being full; I just didn’t stop for anything. It had become my daily routine and that’s when I began to realize my body was changing drastically. My body had become a mess…a total and absolute mess. It got to the point where I couldn’t even stand to look at myself in the mirror anymore. I never had stretch marks but now they covered my thighs and abdomen. When I looked down I could hardly see my feet and that’s what scared me the most.

Shortly after the binging began (as if eating wasn’t enough) I then resorted to taking a razorblade to my own flesh. I honestly didn’t think much of it. Sometimes it was just enough to make me forget what the real issue as hand was. It allowed me to feel pain towards something other than my own body. I understood that once my wounds were cleaned and bandaged that I’d still hate myself – maybe even more so then before. The self mutilation didn’t last long though; within a week my mother had placed me in Forest Haven Rehabilitation Center.

The rising sun nearly blinded me as I exited the heavy metal doors that led to the outside world. Spring was nearing; the trees had gained back their leaves while the shrubs lining the sidewalks blossomed beautiful. People everywhere were laughing at their friends and smiling to whoever spoke on the other end of their phones. The word freedom repeatedly ran through my mind but was soon pushed to the back of my mind. My mother’s screeching high-pitched voice sounded from the rather old blue Pontiac. “Ingrid, sweetie – how wonderful it is to see you!’ She wrapped her arms around me almost too tightly. I couldn’t help but wince just a tad before pulling away hesitantly. Linda’s grey eyes stared at my own with a certain sadness lingering, “What’s wrong, dear?”

I shook my head promptly, “Nothing.” I breathed in deeply – the smell of cherry blossoms penetrating my senses. “It’s just a bit weird to be out of that place finally. Not much has really changed I can see…”

My mother rested her hand on my shoulder gently, “Everything will fine – I promise.” This was promise I prayed that she would be able to keep.

An awkward silence filled the air during the car ride home – that was nothing new for quite some time now though. A few moments later 89 Austin Street came into view and as everything else – not much had changed in the last six months. The grass was neatly cut while the shrubs resembled perfect, round, bulbs. The shutters were no longer chipping from the former colder months, but still remained a dull shade of white that they had always been. The green moss that I had always been allergic to still covered most of the brick structure. My mum pressed the remote control in order to open the garage door and much to my surprise all of Timothy’s gym equipment was gone.

I was most certainly relieved by my recent findings, but curiosity still lingered between my thoughts. Even through all of the bullshit that had scarred me within the last year, my mum always managed to tell me everything. “How come you didn’t tell me?”

A soft sigh resonated from my mum’s mouth before beckoning me to exit the vehicle. She rested her arms on top of the Pontiac and stared at me with a bit of guilt behind her eyes, “It wasn’t important. Nobody liked him – I don’t even think I liked him to be quite honest.”

“Mum – you deserved better. I always thought that.” I couldn’t help but to quickly make my way around the car and hug her tightly. People make mistakes and as humans we have to learn to forgive those mistakes. She was my mother after all.

A gentle kiss was pressed to my forehead, “I’m sorry about everything, Ingrid. If I had been a proper mother none of this would have happened.”

Silence enveloped us – our arms remained locked around each other. I felt a few tears hit the cloth of my grey sweater which induced a few tears of my own. It had been six long months and even though it was for my own good I then realized that it wasn’t just for me. It was also a growing experience for my own flesh and blood. She needed those six months to piece together her life and appreciate what was most important. There still remained things that needed to be brought up and plenty more tears to shed but for now – we needed to enjoy each other’s company. I was home.