My 30 Day Challenge

Day 3: What is your motivation to recover?

When I didn’t come out of the bathroom, Vic decided it would be a good idea to unscrew the door from its hinges and come in and get me. Somehow, I slept through the entire thing, and when he’d seen that I was okay, only sleeping, he had apparently picked me up and carried me to my room, where I woke up the next morning.

Today was Wednesday, the day of my next session at Sacred Heart. I was not looking forward to it. Dr Dawson was a tool, and I didn’t want to be there. Plus I would be attending my first group session, which I also didn’t want to do. Who the hell wants to spend four hours with other people who are just as fucked up as you are? I have my own shit to deal with; I didn’t want theirs, and I sure as hell didn’t want them knowing mine.

Not long after I woke up, Vivian came to my door telling me we’d be leaving in an hour, so I should get ready. As she closed the door, I noticed there was another note on it, probably from Vic. I sighed, knowing what it would say.

Kellin

I am so, so sorry about yesterday. Are you okay? I didn’t know you would react like that, and I swear to God I did not want to hurt you on purpose.

Yeah right.

I’ll tell you today’s question in the car to school, yeah? Mike spent the night at a friend’s.

Vic

No, he wouldn’t, because I wouldn’t be at school.

Shuffling into the bathroom, trying not to wake anyone, I turned on the shower and stood under the warm water. Looking down at my abdomen, I saw that the fresh cuts were slightly shallower than I’d expected, or even intended. I frowned. Why would that be? Shrugging it off, I carried on with my morning.

Upon my arrival at Sacred Heart, I discovered that they ran things differently, and that I’d be having a different psychologist every week, pretty much. I didn’t read too much into that; I didn’t care enough.

Sure enough, when I went to the office I was in last time, the name place on the desk read Dr Jardine, and sitting behind the desk was the very woman who got me sent here.

‘Kellin!’ she exclaimed, standing up and coming around from behind her desk to sit on it instead. ‘I wasn’t expecting you yet.’

I glanced at the clock; it told me that I was a few minutes early. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s fine, just gives us a bit more time to talk,’ she said cheerily. Great. I sat down, and waited for the onslaught to begin. ‘So, Kellin. How do you like San Diego so far? My cousin lives here, and he says the weather is so amazing it’s unreal.’

I shrugged non-committally. ‘It’s okay. I don’t particularly like the sun.’

‘What? How can you not like the sun?’ she cried. ‘It’s great!

‘I don’t know; I just don’t,’ I said cautiously. This was very different to my last session.

‘What, so you like the rain and clouds?’ she asked dubiously.

‘No.’

‘Then what weather do you like?’

‘Snow,’ was the answer that came instantly to mind.

‘Why on earth do you like snow?’ she looked betrayed, in a comical way.

I was 6. We were on holiday in Germany. It was Christmas day.

‘Kellin, honey, wake up! It snowed!’ my mom woke me.

I opened my eyes immediately. Snow! I’d never seen it before, as I lived in the city. I couldn’t believe my luck. And on Christmas day too! I rushed over to the window, where there was a thick layer of white powder on everything outside. It even lined the window.

‘Merry Christmas, Kellin,’ I heard my parents say together from behind me.

I turned around to see them standing there, their arms around each other, smiling at me.

‘Can we go build a snowman?’ I asked excitedly.

‘Sure we can, champ,’ my dad said. ‘Come on, let’s go!’

We spent the day in the nearby forest, laughing and having snowball fights, sledding, making snow angels. My mom brought a picnic for lunch, and we only went home when it was dark.

It was the last time we were all really happy.

‘No reason.’

‘Whatever, Kellin, I’ll leave you to your cold-worshipping ways, that I can’t understand,’ she said melodramatically. ‘Now, I’m afraid we have to get down to the real talk. I’m not actually going to be here regularly, just so you know. I was called here for another patient who is proving too difficult for the staff here to handle, and I wanted to check on you while I was here.’

‘Okay.’

‘Well, I kind of get that you don’t like answering personal questions, Kell, so I only want you to answer if you feel comfortable, okay?’

‘Sure.’

‘Let’s get into it then. So, diving in headfirst, have you self-harmed yourself since you’ve been in San Diego?’

I had. Could I admit it?

‘Yeah,’ I muttered under my breath. She heard.

‘Oh, Kellin,’ she sighed sadly. ‘Can I… can I see? Please?’

I shook my head violently. Not after last night.

‘That’s fine, that’s okay. Was it very bad? Like, do you need to go to hospital bad?’

‘Isn’t that why I’m at this hospital?’ I asked quietly.

‘Touché. How many times?’ she questioned.

‘Twice.’ It was easier to answer these questions than to admit that I had indeed cut myself.

‘On your arms?’ I nodded.

‘What caused it?’

That shut me up. I wasn’t going to explain the whole incident yesterday with Vic, and it was too complicated to explain Vic’s swing. I said nothing, and stared at the same knot in the floor that I had last time.

Dr Jardine seemed to notice, and she sighed.

‘Kellin, I want to tell you a story about a girl I once knew. Let’s call her Taylor. She was very much like you; she was depressed, lived with an abusive father, and had exactly one friend. She eventually ran away and went to stay with that friend, which was a very, very bad choice. The friend was an alcoholic, and the managed to get Taylor involved in some pretty messed up sh—stuff. Taylor ended up in an abusive relationship as well. She was convinced she was in love with him, and when her friend died, she had nowhere else to go.

‘So she stayed with this man. He was so violent that he broke her bones a few times. She started attempting suicide, but she failed. After the first attempt, she woke up to her boyfriend sitting in the chair next to her bed. She thought that maybe he’d changed, and realised how much he loved her; but he wanted to make sure no one knew he’d hurt her. The same thing happened around 4 or 5 times, until eventually a very kind doctor decided to actually take an interest in her. They became friends while Taylor was in hospital all that time, and eventually when she was released after her eighth attempt, he invited her to come to some sessions he was having.

‘He didn’t tell her what they were, and when she showed up, they were therapy sessions. She nearly ran out of there, but he caught her and begged her to stay, and when she did stay, and she heard other people’s stories, she realised what had happened, and how she wanted to change. So she kept going to therapy, and she moved on from her problems. She and the doctor fell in love, over time.’

I’d been enraptured this entire time. I didn’t know what it was, but I desperately needed to know what happened.

‘She moved past her depression, and she surrounded herself with people who were good for her. She went to college, got married, had a baby. She even started running therapy sessions of her own on weekends. I can show you a picture of her, if you want?’ she asked, hand going to her pocket for her phone.

I nodded.

After a couple of taps, she pulled up a photograph on her iPhone. The girl in the picture was identical to Dr Jardine.

‘Was that…?’ I asked, unable to finish my sentence.

‘Yes, that girl was me,’ she said, not sounding particularly emotional.

‘How… How did you tell me that without, I don’t know… crying, or something? I couldn’t have,’ I exclaimed.

‘Because I don’t relate to that girl anymore. She’s a very different person to who I am now, and of that, I am very proud. The point of that story, Kellin, was that you can’t get through this on your own. People with your condition often either think they can, or don’t try to move on, and that’s the problem. My husband was the one who helped me through my depression. He inspired me to actually do something with myself, and I became a doctor just like him, so that I could help others in the same way he helped me,’ she almost glowed when she talked about him.

‘That’s… wow,’ I said, still slightly speechless.

‘I want you to promise me, Kellin, that you will try to do the same. If there is anyone at all in your life who is on your side, don’t push them away. Grasp on to them, and hold them as tightly as you can. You can get over this, Kellin, I swear to God. I know that it will take time, but you have to start somewhere. Baby steps. That first baby step, at least for you, is talking. To who, it doesn’t matter, as long as they listen. These therapy sessions with counsellors are designed to give you that one person who will listen. And they can almost always give you advice on how to move through. We’re trained to do that.’

‘Okay,’ I whispered in a small voice.

Glancing at the clock, I noticed that we had 5 minutes left before I had to go. Dr Jardine – Taylor – saw as well, and stood up, going back behind her desk, but not sitting down.

‘Well, Kellin, I hope you got something out of today. Unfortunately, I probably won’t be able to have you for sessions anymore; this was a one-off. But if I’m ever in town, I promise I will give you however much of my time you need, yeah?’ I nodded, my throat getting a bit thick. I stood up.

‘Thank you, Dr Jardine,’ I murmured.

She rolled her eyes. ‘Call me Tay, please. And come here! You’re not my current favourite patient for nothing.’ She held out her arms.

Hesitantly, I walked over to her, and she embraced me in a tight hug.

‘You’re stronger than this,’ she whispered in my ear. When she let me go, I smiled, for the first time in a long time, before mumbling ‘thank you’ one more time and leaving.

‘Take care, Kellin.’