The Sun Shines Brighter in the West
Reconnected
The next morning, after finally being able to fall asleep for at least a couple hours, I woke up in one of the most familiar and also worst moods of my life. It was a mixture of guilt and anger – not a pleasant mixture at all. I glanced over at my alarm clock. I had to be at Dr. Settler’s office in two hours for our third and last therapy session of the week. I sat up on my elbows and let my eyes wander around the room. I wanted to hop out of bed and start my daily morning routine. Shower, dress, hair, dental hygiene. I wanted to prance off to my appointment with Dr. Settler and show him just how much progress I was making.
Or rather, wanted to make.
I was ready to just be in the mood to hop straight out of bed all chipper and ready to start the day. But the problem was, I was ready to end the day.
I let myself fall back onto my pillow and heaved a sigh. I grabbed my cell phone and called Dr. Settler’s office to let his secretary know I was cancelling the appointment. Immediately after hanging up, I felt guilty. I wanted to believe that I felt guilty for skipping out on him. I would like to believe that I was one of the highlights of his day. However, I actually just felt guilty that I was letting myself get further away from progress. Further away from recovery.
Just a few days ago I had poured my soul out to him. I had told him the full story of what had happened. Something I had never told anyone else. I couldn’t help but feel like I had taken two steps back after making one grand step forward. I wanted to share more with Dr. Settler. I wanted to tell him the things that were the hardest to even think about. I wanted to be able to look at other men without seeing Harley. I wanted to date other men without worrying that they were going to sexually assault me. I wanted to live a normal life again that I always had before and I felt like pouring my heart and soul out to my shrink was the only way to do it. Maybe if I let out all my problems out they would go and bug someone else.
I laughed at myself. What a ridiculous thought. My problems would always be just that. My problems.
I reached my hand over to my bedside table and blindly searched for my pill bottle. My fingers couldn’t locate it, so I turned my head over to inspect the surface. It wasn’t there. I leaned over the side of the bed and checked and double checked the floor. Nowhere to be seen. I glanced over at my desk, but it was a cluttered mess of paper and nothing else. I pushed the covers off of my body and ran for the bathroom where I found my mother.
“What is this?” she asked quietly without even looking up at my face. In her thin hands was my pill bottle. I tried to grab for it, but she pulled back before my fingers could get ahold of it. “I thought we agreed no medication,” she finally looked up at me, “This – these damn pills – don’t do anything except numb the pain.” Her eyes began to fill with tears. It wasn’t long before they were filled to the brim and began to overflow. I wrapped my arms around her and explained that they were just temporary.
“Dr. Settler prescribed them for my attacks, Mom,” I told her. “I made so much progress at once and it was just too much for me to handle. I kept it bottled up for so long that…” I trailed off. It was no use finishing the sentence. If I did, she would want to talk more. And all she really needed to know was that I wasn’t going to remain a pill zombie for the rest of my life.
“I need you to get better sweetheart,” she pleaded with tears in her eyes. “I can’t let you keep walking around with that broken look in your eyes. It makes me feel so guilty for not knowing for so long.”
But her saying that only made me feel like the guilty one. I felt guilty about not telling her for so long even though I know that I was never in the right state to tell her. There was never a right time to tell her that I had been sexually assaulted. That’s not something a mother wants to hear about her baby. I felt guilty about accepting the prescription for my medication even though it helped me so much. I even felt guilty about letting that monster do what he did to me even though I knew it wasn’t my fault. I had fought back and that’s all that I was able to do at the time.
I held my mother as she let the tears run down her rosy cheeks. She didn’t bother to dry them off and neither did I. Sometimes it felt good to let your tears just sit there. It felt good to let the hurt roll of you and evaporate. While she was weeping, I didn’t say anything because I knew it wouldn’t do any good. It’s also just best to let a hurt person cry silently. It hurts even worse when you’re in the middle of crying and you have to explain what triggered the water works. It makes them flow so much harder.
I let go of her once she began to put her hands up to her face to clean herself up. I watched her as she did it and it made a pain shoot right through my heart. What I saw in her during that moment is exactly what I had been feeling for two years. I frowned inwardly, feeling incredibly guilty that I had put this pain upon her. It was a pain I knew too well and something that I would never wish upon anyone else. Even though she looked so sad, she looked so pretty. She was such a great mother. I decided to talk to her about things. The sort of things I never usually talked about. She deserved it. And even though I wouldn’t go into as much detail as I had with Dr. Settler, I knew it would still make her day.
“So…” I mumbled, not sure of how to start the conversation. “Jess said that I should find someone to date. You know, search for my soul mate while also trying to learn to trust men.”
I saw the life flash into her eyes as the words fell out of my mouth. “Well,” she started, “I mean, I don’t know.” I had caught her off guard. I waited, knowing she’d have something to say. She always did. She was so good at giving advice that I wondered why I was so unable to spill my guts out to her. “I think it’s a good idea to get out there. You can’t be scared of men forever because they’re not all pigs. And I’m sure of that,” she pushed her shoulder against mine as she said it. “It’ll be hard, but you got to do it like a Band-Aid.”
It wasn’t the advice I wanted to hear, but I kept my mouth shut because letting her offer me her opinion made her so happy. Instead of protesting, I continued the conversation and we continued talking about everything under the moon. But she knew her boundaries, so she didn’t ask any questions that would trigger an argument.
She really does just want me to get better, I thought. I smiled.
Or rather, wanted to make.
I was ready to just be in the mood to hop straight out of bed all chipper and ready to start the day. But the problem was, I was ready to end the day.
I let myself fall back onto my pillow and heaved a sigh. I grabbed my cell phone and called Dr. Settler’s office to let his secretary know I was cancelling the appointment. Immediately after hanging up, I felt guilty. I wanted to believe that I felt guilty for skipping out on him. I would like to believe that I was one of the highlights of his day. However, I actually just felt guilty that I was letting myself get further away from progress. Further away from recovery.
Just a few days ago I had poured my soul out to him. I had told him the full story of what had happened. Something I had never told anyone else. I couldn’t help but feel like I had taken two steps back after making one grand step forward. I wanted to share more with Dr. Settler. I wanted to tell him the things that were the hardest to even think about. I wanted to be able to look at other men without seeing Harley. I wanted to date other men without worrying that they were going to sexually assault me. I wanted to live a normal life again that I always had before and I felt like pouring my heart and soul out to my shrink was the only way to do it. Maybe if I let out all my problems out they would go and bug someone else.
I laughed at myself. What a ridiculous thought. My problems would always be just that. My problems.
I reached my hand over to my bedside table and blindly searched for my pill bottle. My fingers couldn’t locate it, so I turned my head over to inspect the surface. It wasn’t there. I leaned over the side of the bed and checked and double checked the floor. Nowhere to be seen. I glanced over at my desk, but it was a cluttered mess of paper and nothing else. I pushed the covers off of my body and ran for the bathroom where I found my mother.
“What is this?” she asked quietly without even looking up at my face. In her thin hands was my pill bottle. I tried to grab for it, but she pulled back before my fingers could get ahold of it. “I thought we agreed no medication,” she finally looked up at me, “This – these damn pills – don’t do anything except numb the pain.” Her eyes began to fill with tears. It wasn’t long before they were filled to the brim and began to overflow. I wrapped my arms around her and explained that they were just temporary.
“Dr. Settler prescribed them for my attacks, Mom,” I told her. “I made so much progress at once and it was just too much for me to handle. I kept it bottled up for so long that…” I trailed off. It was no use finishing the sentence. If I did, she would want to talk more. And all she really needed to know was that I wasn’t going to remain a pill zombie for the rest of my life.
“I need you to get better sweetheart,” she pleaded with tears in her eyes. “I can’t let you keep walking around with that broken look in your eyes. It makes me feel so guilty for not knowing for so long.”
But her saying that only made me feel like the guilty one. I felt guilty about not telling her for so long even though I know that I was never in the right state to tell her. There was never a right time to tell her that I had been sexually assaulted. That’s not something a mother wants to hear about her baby. I felt guilty about accepting the prescription for my medication even though it helped me so much. I even felt guilty about letting that monster do what he did to me even though I knew it wasn’t my fault. I had fought back and that’s all that I was able to do at the time.
I held my mother as she let the tears run down her rosy cheeks. She didn’t bother to dry them off and neither did I. Sometimes it felt good to let your tears just sit there. It felt good to let the hurt roll of you and evaporate. While she was weeping, I didn’t say anything because I knew it wouldn’t do any good. It’s also just best to let a hurt person cry silently. It hurts even worse when you’re in the middle of crying and you have to explain what triggered the water works. It makes them flow so much harder.
I let go of her once she began to put her hands up to her face to clean herself up. I watched her as she did it and it made a pain shoot right through my heart. What I saw in her during that moment is exactly what I had been feeling for two years. I frowned inwardly, feeling incredibly guilty that I had put this pain upon her. It was a pain I knew too well and something that I would never wish upon anyone else. Even though she looked so sad, she looked so pretty. She was such a great mother. I decided to talk to her about things. The sort of things I never usually talked about. She deserved it. And even though I wouldn’t go into as much detail as I had with Dr. Settler, I knew it would still make her day.
“So…” I mumbled, not sure of how to start the conversation. “Jess said that I should find someone to date. You know, search for my soul mate while also trying to learn to trust men.”
I saw the life flash into her eyes as the words fell out of my mouth. “Well,” she started, “I mean, I don’t know.” I had caught her off guard. I waited, knowing she’d have something to say. She always did. She was so good at giving advice that I wondered why I was so unable to spill my guts out to her. “I think it’s a good idea to get out there. You can’t be scared of men forever because they’re not all pigs. And I’m sure of that,” she pushed her shoulder against mine as she said it. “It’ll be hard, but you got to do it like a Band-Aid.”
It wasn’t the advice I wanted to hear, but I kept my mouth shut because letting her offer me her opinion made her so happy. Instead of protesting, I continued the conversation and we continued talking about everything under the moon. But she knew her boundaries, so she didn’t ask any questions that would trigger an argument.
She really does just want me to get better, I thought. I smiled.