Day Two:

An unexpected visitor shows up, and still overwhelmed with what has happened, I get reassurance from the other kids in the group

December 20, 2019

8:45 AM

Yesterday felt like a whole week.

They made me meet with a couple of counselors that will be assisting me throughout my stay here. I have a family counselor and a physician. 

The family counselor, Mrs. Karlton, is a firm yet compassionate woman. She doesn’t smile.

The physician, Dr. Vincent, I don’t like him. He is cold and doesn’t take one word answers. He gives orders, not suggestions.

I don’t need a family counselor. I don’t need stupid pills. There must be some mistake. I should not be here. Why try to treat something that is dead? Something that cannot be helped? It is like trying to revive someone that is a rotting corpse. It’s pointless. 

Did I mention there were such things as Levels? Yeah… Levels is how good you comply to the rules, if you behave, participation within groups, and if you get along with everyone else. There are four levels. Level four is the highest, and you can do whatever, really. Have two activities in your room, go to and participate in all the groups, play with the instruments, and go outside- but since it’s freezing outside that is out of the picture. Level Zero is the lowest. You can’t do anything but be in your room all day long, while a nurse watches you 24/7. Yeah, no, I am not planning on going down to a Level Zero. There is no way that I will be able to stay in my room all day long and have someone watch everything I do, which includes using the bathroom. The more levels you go down, the more restrictions they put on you, basically.

But the way I was not writing anything down was a problem.

The paper in front of me was blank. I don’t know how long I’ve been staring at it, but everyone else was filling it out. We are supposed to fill it out every day, after breakfast then after dinner. They call it: the GOALS sheet.

I read the first question.

List three goals you want to accomplish today.

I had no goals. Except maybe trying to escape this place and die in the cold outside, or hit my head so hard against the wall that I black out for good.

But I can’t write any of that down otherwise, I will have to talk to a counselor again.

“Hey, you haven’t filled anything out,” the nurse from yesterday, her name was Nurse Holly, sat in front of me and pointed to the three empty lines where I was supposed to fill out the goals, “would you like help?”

Not wanting to blow her off, and because I couldn’t think of anything, I agreed, “Sure.”

“How about…” she thought for a moment, “Speaking and introducing yourself more in Processing Group? I am sure everyone would like to get to know you.”

A. J. agreed, “Yeah, Lavender!”

I shrugged, my eyes fixed to the pencil on top of the paper, “There’s nothing to know.”

“I bet there is something.” Nurse Holly smiled, “Come on, why not give it a try?”

“You totally should though.” says A. J. , “Because you are stuck in here with us for a while and they are going to make you say it anyways, so you might as well.” She got up and started dancing, randomly. Everyone at the table laughed. I painted a smile, but it was plastic.

Little did they know that my breath was taken away and that my chest tightened. I didn’t want to talk about myself. There was nothing to say. Or at least nothing I wanted to talk about.

Then her words came into my head like a soft, cool breeze on a boiling summer day.

“Be open to it, Lavender. This can help you. Your happiness and life matters to us-”

I shook my head to erase her voice. Hearing it might make me cry. But they may be right. I am going to be here for a while so I might as well play along to appease them.

I wrote it down.

Nurse Holly was pleased with my response.

“Okay,” she says, smiling, “How did you sleep last night?”
“Barely could.”

She tapped her finger on the second line, “How about your next goal is to tell someone about that before you go to bed?”

I sighed, as I put that down.

Abruptly, my eyes started to sting, I balled my hands into fists and I repulsed inside.

Why are we even doing this?

It is pointless.

“Hey, hey,” Nurse Holly laid her hand close to mine, but didn’t touch it, “why are you making fists? Is something upsetting you?”

I shook my head, I didn’t want to talk.

“Do you need to talk to someone? I am more than happy to go to your room with you and we can talk.”

I, once again, shook my head.

“I just want to be alone.”

“I can grant you five minutes alone in your room. But you need to fill out your paper, then we begin our first group time.”

This is better than nothing. So, I grabbed my paper and went to my room.

Before I entered, I stared at the doorknob.

If I don’t turn it two, six, then eight times, something bad will happen. What if I didn’t turn it? Then I might end up going crazy and be put in the break room. If I didn’t turn it, then I will end up triggering myself and have a panic attack.

Something bad would happen.

My hand gripped the cold handle and I turned it.

One, two.

One, two, three, four, five, six.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

One, two.

One, two, three, four, five, six.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

Exhaling in relief, I walked into my room. I sat myself down on the green stool and placed the paper on the desk. The sound of the heater rumbled throughout the room, distant voices of the kids and adults in the dining area whispered. I laid my hand against my ear, and very subtly heard my own heart beating. Quickly, I removed my hand, feeling uncomfortable hearing my own heart sing with life. I tapped the pencil on the paper but felt that my hand was shaking, very lightly.

I’m fine, I told myself, just anxious is all. I am fine.

“But are we fine?’

I looked around the room and stopped. My breath quickly went quiet.

There was a man standing behind me, a yard away. He had small, dark eyes and a wicked smile.

A smile I’ve seen only in my nightmares.

I shook my head.

He’s not real, he’s not real, he’s not real. He’s. Not. Real.

I turned around, to ignore him, focusing on the paper.

Whispers again. But multiple voices speaking at once.

“Turn around.”

“Turn around.”

“Notice me.”

“Look at me, Lavender.”

“Look at me.”

“LOOK AT ME, RIGHT NOW!”

I turned around. His eyes sunken in, a frown replaced his evil grin.

What do you want? I thought in my head.

“I want you to answer me when I speak.”

I am not doing that, I shook my head and turned back to my paper.

“Lavender?”

My heart skipped a beat. That voice… My instincts told me to not look. So, I acted like I didn’t hear it and tried to focus on my last goal.

“Lavender… Why? Why would you do this to us, to me? This is your fault. You tore our family apart. Now, we won’t be with you for Christmas. You made your siblings sad, do you imagine what I have to tell our other family? Why? Why would you do this?”

I buried my head under my arms and covered my ears.

Make it go away, make it go away, make it go away, make it go away, make it go away. Go away, go away, goawaygoawaygoawaygoawaygoaway!

A concrete voice boomed over the breathy, ghost-like ones.

“Lavender? What’s going on?”

I spotted the man that had ruffled, light brown hair, with eyes a tender caramel. His name was Johnathan.

I sat up and looked behind me.

He was gone, and so were the voices.

“I… I…” I stuttered, then the words vomited from my mouth, “I saw him.”

“Saw who?”

“Him. He was right behind me!”

Nurse Jonathan inspected the room, including the bathroom, before saying, “There is no one in here.”

“But he was right there! He is haunting me!”

Nurse Jonathan took a step closer to me and said, calmly, “Lavender, let’s take a deep breath. In… and out.”

I felt like anger was going to burst out of every pore in my body.

He thinks I’m insane!

“I’m not crazy!” I raised my voice, gripping the pencil tightly, “I saw him!”

He paused, then said, “What did he look like?”

I was afraid of this answer. Because not only did I know exactly what he looked like, but I knew who he was.

“Tall, dark hair, small, void-black eyes… Evil grin.”

“What was he doing?”

I looked down, hot tears rolled down my face, “He… He was taunting me. Like he always does.” I wiped the tears away, “He likes to mess with me. He hates me.”

“What was he exactly saying?”

I looked at Nurse Jonathan. Why was he asking? He doesn’t need to get into my personal space.

But he is here to help, says a small voice in the back of my head, tell him. The more he knows, the more he can accurately help you.

Tell him…

But his voice yelled in my head, “He won’t help! No one can help! You are a broken, scared, little girl. You mean nothing to him! You are pathetic and can’t trust him. He will just make things worse!”

I hugged my knees, still on the stool, and cried.

All I could think about was, please… Help me. Help me from these thoughts, from these demons, from myself. Please, help me…

Nurse Jonathan leaned forward, “Do you need some time before you want to talk about it?”

I nodded, saying, “Give me a couple of minutes.”

When he returned, after the couple of minutes were up, he sat on my bed and placed his elbows on his knees.

“Ready to talk about it?”

I sighed, wiping new tears from my eyes, “I don’t know… I am having conflicting thoughts about opening up. I don’t want to open up, but then I do. I’m not crazy… I… I don’t want to be crazy.”

“You aren’t crazy,” he smiled gently, “you just need extra help dealing with your mental health. You aren’t crazy, though. You are an amazing person, and you are needed here on this planet earth.”

“You don’t know me,” I snapped, looking at the floor, “you don’t know what I go through, what I have done. I am not supposed to be here.”

“Here in the hospital?”

“Here.” I lowered my voice, “Here, as in being alive. I was supposed to die that day. I don’t deserve to be breathing or have a beating heart. I don’t deserve this treatment. I don’t deserve help. I am nothing and I don’t deserve to live.”

He was silent for a moment, then said, “Lavender… You do deserve to be here. People love and care about you, we do.”

I looked up at him, kind of skeptical.

“And you are alive for a reason, Lavender. You are here to make a change in your own life, your family, your community, and possibly even the world. I believe you can.”

The words hit me like a landslide.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and I shook my head to clear the incoming, negative thoughts.

“You… You really think so?” I asked, eyeing him as if he were a stranger offering something to me.

The smile illuminated his face, “Absolutely, Lavender. 100%. I can tell, you are going to do great things.”

For the first time- in what felt like a lifetime- my smile that grew on my face was genuine. It was small, but it was genuine. Then it quickly disappeared as I heard his voice again.

“You know he’s lying. He is just saying that because he is supposed to say that. He is a liar.”

“Thank you.” I said, “I feel better.”

“You matter, you are loved, and we will do what is best for you, and your safety.”

I flashed a fake smile, and he seemed satisfied and got up, “It’s time for group. Did you drink some water this morning?”

“No.”

“Then make sure you fill up that water bottle before we go to group. You need to drink a lot of water. And bring your notebook. We’re going to be talking about Thinking Errors, and you will want to take notes.”

“Okay,” I groaned, then stood up.

He was at the door and opened it up for me. He waited and smiled. I couldn’t tell if he was an expert at lying- like me- or was genuine in his intentions. Either way, I felt nervous about being in here.

I thanked him again, and headed down the hall to face my demons.

*       *       *

1:00 PM

When Processing Group came, everyone entered the main activity room and sat down in a chair- that was around in a circle.

I was finally able to see everyone in this unit. Including those that I haven't met yet.

A. J. sat down to the left of me, while Owen sat to my right. He raised his hand- to signal a wave- and I did so back. 

Nurse Mike sat down at the head of the circle and counted how many kids were in the room. When everyone was sitting down, he began.

“Okay, rules. First, confidentiality. No names of schools, people, or anything that could indicate who you are and where you live. Second, no details. We don’t want to trigger anyone in here so keep the details out. Third, no speaking when someone else is speaking, if you do that you will be given a warning. If you break that rule again, you will be sent to your room and lowered a level. Any questions?"

Everyone was silent.

"Okay," he turned to his left, looking at a boy with deep brown eyes and a blue and gray hoodie, "Justin, how are you?"

He shrugged, "Angry."

"What made you angry?"

"They made me take my hood off when I was sleeping. And to add to that, after they woke me up, I couldn't go back to sleep. So, now I feel exhausted."

"How is family therapy going?" questioned Nurse Mike, writing what Justin said in his notes.

"Okay, I guess. My mother keeps crying when she sees me." he looked at his hands, playing with his fingers, "It makes me feel awful because it was my fault for breaking her heart. I feel like an awful person."

Nurse Mike looked around the group, “Can anyone relate?”

A couple of kids- two girls- rose their hands. Then I slowly raised mine.

“Angie,” Nurse Mike looked at her, “how do you relate?”

“Well,” she started, “ever since I got in here, and when my family visits me, I feel like a piece of crap every time I see their faces. The pain behind their eyes, knowing that I’m in here. It hurts, ya know?”

I looked up from the floor to Nurse Mike’s eyes, I followed his gaze to see a strawberry blonde haired girl, with pretty icy blue eyes.

The other girl nodded in agreement.

“Makenzie,” Nurse Mike eyed her, “how can you relate?”

“My answer is the same,” she said.

This girl had silk black hair and round eyeglasses.

Then I examined everyone in the room. Everyone looked like normal kids, except they didn’t wear smiles and that majority of them wore long sleeved shirts, indicating that they either have tattoos or have self-harmed. But looking at their appearance and seeing how old they appear, they most likely don’t have tattoos.

“Lavender,” Nurse Mike turned to me, “how do you relate?”

My eyes found the floor, I was too nervous to see everyone’s eyes on me.

“I…” I looked up at everyone, “I am new, and I haven’t had family therapy yet or had anyone visit me, but when I was in the hospital before I came here, I saw how my family looked at me.” I paused, my eyes began to sting, “And… It hurt. Because I apparently matter to them, and that they care about me.” I chuckled, rubbing my eyes so no one can see that I was on the verge of tears, “I know I do… But for the longest time, I felt like a burden to them.”

Nurse Mike nodded, writing that down.

I stared at the floor, realizing what I said. I haven't been able to open up about how I truly felt in years. Why did I tell them this?

"Anything else you would like to add?" Nurse Mike says, finishing up writing.

Justin shook his head, placing his hands in his sweatpant's pockets.

"Owen," Nurse Mike says way too happily, "been awhile since you've attended group. How are you, buddy?"

Owen shrugged, “I feel numb.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I have been in isolation for four days, I miss my girlfriend, I want to get sleep but the pills aren’t strong enough, so I lay awake all throughout the night, and I don’t have an appetite for anything.”

A couple of kids muttered to each other that they agreed with him.

“Can you name one positive thing?” asked Nurse Mike.

Owen thought about it, then said, “A. J. made me chuckle when she started dancing randomly. It is nice to be here again.”

Nurse Mike smiled, “And we are glad to see you again. How is family therapy going?”

“Not so good. My mother keeps arguing with me and making me feel like it’s my fault for having depression and hallucinations, and that she spends money on me being in here.” he looked around, then sighed, “I feel like I can’t do anything right. Even in death, I will never be enough.”

“Can anyone relate?” Nurse Mike glanced at everyone.

A few kids raised their hands.

“A. J., how do you relate?”

“Well, my mother is very caring and she understands that I need to be in here so I can ‘get it together.’ But my dad, he is a jerk. He thinks that I am doing it for attention and that, and in his words, “I’m hoping someone would save me.”” She scoffed and bounced her foot, angrily, “I am not doing it for attention. I am seriously hurting inside, and it seems like the only way for me to get it out is to lash out at people and vandalize things. But then sometimes I cannot control my own body. It’s like I’m being possessed. That something has its grip on me and refuses to let go unless I have done something I shouldn’t have done. It scares me.”

Nurse Mike’s attention then faced a boy with curly, dark hair, with freckles all over his face, “Levi, how do you relate?”
Levi sat up in his chair, “I have depression, and my dad thinks I’m making it all up.”

Nurse Mike faced a kid that had dirty blonde, really short hair, and tropical blue eyes, “Russell, how do you relate?”

“I feel like even if I die, I will never be enough for my family. Their standards are way too high, way too… Not human.”

“Explain.” Nurse Mike tilted his head.

“Like, their standards are perfect. Straight A’s, not gay, no tattoos, no piercings, no mental health issues, the popular kid at school, that kind of thing.”

Nurse Mike nodded, turning his attention to Owen again, “Anything else you want to add?”

Owen straightened his back and rolled his head over in my direction.

I felt every muscle in me pinch.

“It’s going to be okay. It may seem scary at first, you know… To be here. But you will make it through. I believe in you and I bet everyone here believes in you too.”

My eyes flew up to see his brown eyes glittering down into mine. For a moment, I thought I saw a light shine through his eyes and share the light to mine. I looked around to see everyone, and it was the same. A light that was there, glowing in all of them. They all smiled and agreed with Owen.

Was I capable of having this light in me too?

“No,” whispered the grim voice in my head, “they are all liars. Look at them! They are in here because they have been lying about their pain for so long, that one day they exploded and now they’re here. They are lying to you, so that you can open up and then- BAM! They attack you even more and you will never be the same again.”

I shook my head to clear his voice from my mind and I smiled back at all of them.

“Thank you,” I said.

“We are here for you, people do care, Lavender,” says A. J., holding up the I-love-you hand sign.

“Love yourself!” says Courtney.

“Accept yourself!” chuckles Owen.

I felt my body relax and my heart open a bit more.

“Anything else you want to add, Owen?” questioned Nurse Mike.

He shook his head, “Nope.”

“Okay,” Nurse Mike tapped his clipboard then pointed at me with the pen, “Lavender. Why don’t you introduce yourself to the group and name three things you love.”

My feet instantly started to bounce because everyone’s eyes were on me. I took a deep breath, and let my hands play with the shirt I was wearing.

“Hi, my name is Lavender and three things I love are my family, writing, and learning.”

“What brought you here, Lavender?”

I held my breath.

“Suicide attempt.” I finally breathed.

Nurse Mike wrote it down, then said in a cheery voice, “How are you feeling? You can’t say okay or fine, though.”

“I am scared. Alone. Worthless.”

“Why are you feeling those?”

“Because, I am here.” I looked down. Could I tell them why I felt this? “I feel scared because it’s a new environment, new people. And…” I gazed into everyone’s eyes, “I feel like I am not supposed to be here. Like, as in alive. When I woke up last morning, I thought this was a dream. It still feels like a dream. I was supposed to be dead. But here I am.”

The room was silent.

Nurse Mike cleared his throat then said, “What made you want to end your life?”

I peer into his eyes. I don’t think I was ready to tell anyone. What if my story made people more anxious, or that I triggered someone? Or worse, what if they make fun of me because my story isn’t as bad as compared to theirs?

I asked, “Do I have to answer?”

“You are going to have to, sooner or later.” Nurse Mike placed his elbows on his knees.

My blood boiled, and I felt my hands tightly clutch the shirt. I didn’t want to share because I am not ready. Then I noticed that Owen was smiling at me. So was A. J.

“You don’t have to share now, if you are not ready.” said Nurse Mike, “But you will have to, as I said, sooner or later.”

I leaned back, “I will share later, I just need a little more time.”

Nurse Mike bobbed his head, “That’s okay. Anything else you would like to talk about?”

For a few seconds, I thought if there was anything I wanted to share.

“Sorry.” I finally said.

“What are you apologizing for?” questioned Nurse Mike.

“In advance. I am a lost cause. I know you are trying to help me, but there is nothing that can fix this.” I pointed to my head, then let my hands fall to my lap, “I… I tried. I tried to do all that I could to help myself. Meditation, medications, exercise, writing it all out, I tried. But it ended in failure. I am something that cannot be helped. So, I am sorry.”

Hot tears then trickled down my face, I hurried and wiped them away but they kept pouring down. I felt my cheeks grow warm. I was embarrassed to cry.

Crying is for the weak, no person cries that is strong.

But then, I remembered. I am weak. I am a wounded soldier still fighting. I am dying and no one can tell that I am drowning in the darkness of my own misfortunes. Problems that were created from the blind.

Nurse Mike said, “Can anyone relate to this?”

Everyone raised their hand.

“Justin,” Nurse Mike gestured to him, “how do you relate?”

Justin said, “I felt like that when I first came here. Like there was no way anyone or anything here could benefit me to “get better”. But once I started to open up and allow help, I noticed that I started to not only feel better, but I feel like there’s hope. So, hang in there, Lavender.”

“Thank you, Justin,” I inclined my head to him.

“Owen,” Nurse Mike said, “how do you relate?”

Owen said in a soft, warm voice, “Lavender, you are not a lost cause. They are not trying to fix you, there is no such thing as ‘fixing’. It is like, you are injured, and they are trying to give you the tools so the wound can heal. You are not a lost cause. I felt like that when I first came here, but like Justin said, when you open up and let people help you, it isn’t all that bad. If anything it offers hope. There is hope. There is a light at the end of the abyss. It takes time and effort, is all.”

I mumbled, more tears dripping down onto my shirt, “Thank you, Owen.”

“A. J.,” says Nurse Mike, “how do you relate?”

A. J. faced me, “Lavender, my dear friend, we are all human. Nothing about us is perfect. There is always going to be bad with the good. Struggle with the success. Dark with the light. There is no such thing as perfection. Yes, there can be an ideal of what is perfect but,” she smiled and tilted her head, “we are human at the end of the day. You don’t need to apologize, because you are not a lost cause. You are a human that needs a little more help, is all. And there is nothing wrong with that. I agree with Justin and Owen. When I first came here, I thought it was all a sham, a waste of time and energy on something that cannot be fixed. One thing I can say is: try it. Take the risk and open up, because whatever it is that is holding you back will make it even more difficult for you. So, take the risk and do your best. We believe in you. You are not a burden, or a lost cause.”

I wiped my watery eyes, and smiled back at her, “Thank you, A. J.”

Everyone else got the chance to tell me the same thing, and talk about their day. As we left the room- to go have Quiet Time in our room for half an hour- I looked at the area around me.

White walls, carpeted floor, except for the kitchen area, two tables for eating, the kitchen counter, a water fountain to fill up water bottles, rooms for the adolescents, the nurse’s station, the break room, and a single painting of Superman next to the nurse’s station.

I inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly.

“Take the risk and do your best.”

I did my usual turning of the door knob, and went into my room. I grabbed the pencil and started writing.

I remembered seeing the light behind their eyes…

Was I capable of having this light in me too?

I hope I was…

Reviews

[Helen]

More brave and beautiful writing. What I like most about this chapter is the build up to hope. I think we all have the light within us, it's just sometimes it is turned down really low. I think it is hope that turns the flame up and faith and growth that keeps it burning.

[Coyote Poetry]

You are a very good writer. You set-up each scene in the story with care. You make the story understandable. I liked the pace of the story and the thoughts/conversations. Thank you for sharing the excellent chapter.
Coyote

[Lackadaisical Lenny]

I am genuinely interested in what's next in this, your, story. It's a story of real human experience.