Inner Turmoil

Revolves around Dawn's point of view

 

“Alright everyone, park your butts here,” directed Cami, our therapist.

           

       We all sat down not quite sure what was happening. Cami never brought us this far out for the daily session. It was a nice little clearing in the woods, with a gently flowing stream passing through the middle. Looking at the beauty of it seemed surreal to me, I couldn’t imagine it being real.

 

“Quiet down now and just listen to the nature. Try to picture it in your mind. The inner peace of the clearing, the clarity in everything. Now close your eyes and lie down, let your anger seep into the ground and let your mind be free of thought.”

 

       Easier said than done. There was no inner peace to hold onto. Everything was turmoil. It didn’t matter how I felt though, this was therapy and what Cami said went, without question. So I lay there picking myself apart for a good hour, or was it two? I couldn’t tell. There were no clocks in the building so one could easily lose track of time. When we finally got up to go back, I felt smaller and angrier then I did when the day started. I was lost but everyone marveled at what a great recovery I was making. Cami even said if I kept making progress I’d be going home in a month. Everyone is blind; they believe what they want to believe. I know that I’m an expert at hiding my true feelings but no one else here does. All they see is someone damaged making their way through the building. They don’t see how distant I feel, only how I talk. I am misleading them and no one has a bloody clue.

           

       Later that night I’m lying in bed holding the only possession I have that means anything to me. It was the only thing that had that kept me in reality. My baby blanket was the only thing that kept me sane, that gave me any form of hope for a future. I knew I was in for yet another sleepless night so I buckled myself down and got comfortable. What a word comfortable. It didn’t apply to my bed, which was hard and lumpy from old age. The only thing I associated the word with was comfortably numb. Now that sound so depressing I don’t even want to think about it. Even if the term is the only thing I can think of when asked to describe myself. This inner fight I knew would rage war in my mind until daybreak, when, exhausted I would finally doze off into a fitful sleep full of nasty, heart wrenching dreams.

 

“Hey Dawn come eat with me,” invited Johnny.

           

       I rolled my eyes and gave Johnny a playful punch in the arm. “Be careful man, people are gonna start thinking you got a thing for me,” I laughed. There I went again, misleading people to my well being. I looked at Johnny and for the first time in a long time I truly saw him for him. Let me explain this to you. Johnny is my best friend and next door neighbor. We have known each other since we were just little tykes. I don’t ask why he’s here and he doesn’t ask. We both know there’s not much point in doing so. Neither one of us seems able to say what we truly mean.

           

       You see Johnny’s got this theory. He believes that our heart always has something to say and sends the raw, emotional message to the brain to be said out loud. The brain gets the message from the heart and sounds the alarm bell. The first thought is that you can’t say that, you can’t show all that vulnerability, so it makes a similar message. The problem with the new message is that it is completely devoid of emotion. Then it comes out of your mouth, and you never meant to say what you did. Your heart stops, defeated and feeling like there is no point in even trying to get out how you truly feel. That, as he says, is inner turmoil. You’re in trouble when your head and heart can’t agree on what to say. Every time he explains that to me I give him some sarcastic remark about how unlikely that theory is and give him a knock over the head.

           

       That is Johnny and me. Always been friends but don’t really know anything about each other. I knew the time we had together would eventually end. I also knew that the window of opportunity for asking him all the questions I wanted to ask him was getting smaller with each passing day. Maybe he was actually on to something with his theory. Maybe that theory, which seemed like gibberish to me now, would someday mean something. I could only wonder too afraid to actually find out.

           

       I finished my breakfast in silence then dashed to my room to get ready for class. To think of it! School in a psychiatric ward! It seems ridiculous because we’re all supposed to be here to learn about ourselves. Instead we’re learning about how stupid Macbeth is. I can see the similarity though. All of us in the ward have some mental illness and Macbeth goes insane. What kind of message am I supposed to get from that? On top of that it was summer we weren’t supposed to be in school. We should be free to sleep until noon and then do nothing for the rest of the day. What ever happened to summer time? Do they not care here? A sound snapped me out of my train of thought. It was the church bell saying get to class.

           

       I didn’t like Ms. Greenwood; she was old and smelled of cheese and old lady perfume. I tried paying attention to what she was saying about the cosmos and the natural order but I couldn’t. It was all so boring. I just wanted to forget about all forms of learning. Johnny, who sat behind me, passed me a note.

           

Johnny: Listen a bunch of us are getting together during free-time to get high. Adam managed to get some weed in last time his dealer visited.

           

       I stared blankly at the not knowing how to reply. I’d never gotten high in my life. Drunk maybe but never high. Yet here it was dangling over me like seductive chocolate. How I loved chocolate. So I wrote back, giving into the desire.

           

Dawn: Love to, where are we meeting?

Johnny: In the unused portable behind the woods. We’ll go up together.

Dawn: Sounds good bro. Can’t wait till then.

           

       Free time finally arrived, and Johnny and I headed to the wood. When we reached the portable I walked in ready to do what I was going to do. Adam already had the joints rolled for us. All we had to do was smoke it; I could feel something I had tried hard to control come up to the surface. I started laughing uncontrollably and anything and everything. I laughed so hard tears ran down my cheeks. So I did remember how to cry. I really didn’t realize that I was high and apparently you don’t know the first time. I did realize though that drugs does nothing for making my mind calm down and in fact intensified my paranoia. Since I hated the feeling of increasing paranoia I decided that smoking marijuana was not for me.                                                  

           

       Johnny invited me back to the portable the next day but I said I wasn’t feeling up to it. He shrugged and said maybe next time before taking off. True to my word I walked around during free time. The thing I didn’t tell Johnny was that I was also going to be drawing. I sat down at the base of an ancient oak and lost myself to my surroundings. Casting out my senses to draw a beautiful picture full of life. I was so lost in what I was doing that I was startled when Cami came up to me.

 

“That’s beautiful Dawn, I never knew you could draw,” whispered Cami resting her hand on my shoulder.

 

“It’s not done yet,” I replied not taking my eyes away form the image I was drawing.

“Mind if I sit with you and watch you draw for a little while?” Cami asked hesitantly.

 

“It’s a free country,” I shrugged.

 

“Thanks,” she replied smiling.

           

       For the next half hour she sat and watched me draw. She watched as I drew slow, deliberate lines. She watched the drawing take shape; she saw the delicate charcoal shading. She saw the true beauty in the picture and she saw my raw heart bound when I signed the drawing to signify it was complete.

 

“You have an amazing gift,” she murmured. “You should come teach art in class tomorrow,” she added.

 

“I don’t think so Cami, drawing for me is something very personal and private,” I replied.

 

“Just think about it and let me know sometime,” she encouraged. “I’ll see you at group later.”

           

       As she stood up to leave my eyes went to her. The followed her all the way to the courtyard where I lost her in the crowd. Was I really that good? I asked myself looking back down to my drawing. I couldn’t believe it at first but after looking deep into my drawings I saw how meaningful they truly were. So maybe I wasn’t ready to share that with the world. Maybe I just needed more time. With that I got up to go get ready for group, slightly looking forward to seeing Cami.