Drugs & Candy

Chapter Twelve

May 12th 2013.

I've been here for ten days so far and I haven't seen Jack on any of them, apart from stealing glances when I walk past his office. Not yet. We have a plan though. While I haven't seen him, I have gotten notes from him hidden inside what look like letters to me from my mom and dad. I've gotten two so far. One three days ago, and one today. That's the story I've been giving to my therapist too, that I'm throwing my letters away because they're not good for me right now. It would be the truth if my parents were writing to me. Her name is Lizzie and she's really nice. She is actually very helpful and I like her a lot. She's gentle in how she speaks to me, and while she doesn't understand me the way Jack does, she does offer me a lot of new insight and gives me perspective on a lot of things. 

I open the letter I got today. When I'm done, much like the last one and any future ones, I will rip it to irreparable shreds and throw it away. 

'Alex,

I still can't see you. I'm sorry, it's just too risky. I will though, I promise. I hope you're feeling okay. I know this is really hard. Lizzie is really, really nice though. She'll help you through the withdrawal. I've got a ton of faith in you okay?
Maybe I can 'accidentally' bump into you in the cafeteria and eat lunch with you soon.
Remember, if you absolutely need me, ask for me. They all know I was your therapist before...So it won't be too sketchy as long as you don't try anything funny on me. 

- Jack'

I smile at his words. I need them today.
It's rough, and I hurt and I'm sick as I expected to be. The symptoms hit me a lot quicker this time around than last time and I'm not sure why, but it's miserable.
I read through Jack's note one last time, tear it to shreds and toss it in my little trash bin next to the little desk.
I curl back up in bed under my blankets and close my eyes, my head absolutely throbbing. I threw up my breakfast this morning, and I'm worried about dinner. Lunch was fine, but I only ate half a turkey sandwich and drank water. Not that I'm hungry at all, really. It's hard to feel anything other than the pain and cravings. I'm used to it though. I went through this before, so I'm handling myself a little bit better. When I say a little bit, I do only mean a little bit though.

I get up when it's time to talk to Lizzie and make my way to her office.
I glance at Jack through the window of his office as I walk by, he's talking to a patient though and doesn't see me. That or he knows my schedule and refuses to look up. Either way, I understand.
"Hi Lizzie" I say quietly, taking a seat in the little armchair she has. She sits across from me and scribbles the date, my name and time on my file and closes it. I told her already that I hate it being out while I'm talking. It intimidates me and makes me afraid to talk. Her office is relaxing. It's got plants in it on little shelves, a few pictures of her, her husband and her two children Madeline and Evan. Madeline is six and Evan is two. I want that eventually, a family. People to love who love me too.

"Hi Alex." She smiles, "How are you feeling today? You look like you feel bad." She's so empathetic that it makes me feel good. She really does care and it radiates off of her. She loves her job.
I nod, "Honestly I feel like I want to just sleep...All the time...The first time I went through this, I was miserable, screaming, having panic attacks...They hooked me up to an IV because I just couldn't keep anything down...I'm still throwing up and nauseous, and I feel like I got hit by a bus but I think I'm handling it a little better, the cravings are intense but I think I'll be okay through them...Plus I know that I've got people waiting for me as soon as I go home from this...I think I'm really just pushing it all back...The physical pain, not the mental shit you keep trying to get me to gush about." I smirk just a tiny bit.
Lizzie smiles at me, then calls the nurses station. She gets them to bring me tylenol for the pain and a zofran for the nausea, I take them gratefully.
"Thank you." I say to both the volunteer and Lizzie.
As soon as the volunteer leaves, Lizzie gets me talking again.
"So we just went through the physical aspect of things. How's the mental side of things? Let me pick your brain a little. We really got somewhere in our first session I think." She says sweetly, jotting something down in my file quickly before setting it back down. In our first session, we talked about the expectations of this place and what I'd be feeling, the mood swings I'll be having, and other things that I already know. I opened up to her more than I expected to though so it went well.

"I'm just...I think I'm mentally done. Lizzie, I used again with an artist I worked with. So cliché I know, but I did. He offered and I said fuck it and did it. I regret it. I've never regretted it before. Then I got so hooked all over again that the second I got my hands on those pills, I crushed them up on a filthy garbage can outside of a restaurant on Hollywood Boulevard and snorted it directly off the lid. That's the lowest I've ever gone just to use. I couldn't even wait til I got home. Then I got arrested. I've never been arrested in my life. I called my friend to pick me up, and she was so pissed at me," So I'm fudging the identity of the so called 'friend' who bailed me out. Oh well. "She convinced me to come back here and I told her I would if I got to get high one last time because I didn't get to last time I was here. I was forced to come and I resent it..." 
Lizzie nods, "I understand that. You felt out of control the first time you were here because you didn't choose it. Right?"
"Yeah," I sigh "I just felt like I had no say in anything. I didn't get a choice. I got a whole spiel about how pathetic I am and how if I don't get help, my wife would leave me. She left me anyway. So I resent it even more. Elaina and I have talked, and we're okay but that resentment and bitterness I feel isn't just going to magically go away. So my friend let me get my last high. I regret asking her to let me though. She didn't need to stay with me either when I did it, but she refused to leave. She waited for me the entire time. She laid with me when I was passed out, so I woke up feeling really good, really safe. I promised I'd come, and here I am. I don't resent or regret anything, I am sad that the high felt so good. If I would've had more than three pills, I honestly might've overdosed just to feel every last bit of that poison. I've been calling it poison in my head. It helps me realize that it's not a good thing. My friend gave me free reign to do as I pleased though, and it felt great. I chose what I wanted to do and then I chose to come here. I think if I would've had that choice in the first place, I maybe could've stayed clean. I know it's my own fault for choosing to get high again, but the fact that I got to decide things for myself was such a free feeling. It's one I haven't had in ages. So I guess I just pushed it a little bit and took advantage of it." I shrug.

Lizzie smiles, "I like your honesty about it. I think you're pretty spot on with your feelings there. It's hard to want to make good choices when you're angry about the fact that you didn't get to in the first place. I also think it's good that you talked to your ex about things. Does she know how you feel?" She asks curiously.
I nod, "I talked to her on the phone one day and I told her how much I hate the way she handled things. I also told her that I understand where she was at in that moment, how fed up she was and I don't blame her for that one bit. Looking at it from an outside perspective rather than my own kind of helped me see that. Then I started using again and stopped caring. Now I'm really trying to care again, so my emotions are just everywhere...I sort of feel like I'm in a maze that I can't find the exit to, if that makes any sense. It seems like every path I choose leads to a dead end. I'm just trying to find the exit of this damn thing and come out on top for once. I never do. I'm always second choice. I'm always last. No one loves me, no one gives a shit about me..." I feel my throat close up as I feel that stupid lump rise in it.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
"It's okay to cry Alex. Let it out." She says gently.
"I just...My parents gave up...They saw me here and we visited a little after I got out of here the first time but that stopped...It was too awkward, there was too much history and I don't know if they'll ever get past it...They don't care about me enough to try to stick around because of how badly I fucked up. My ex wife, obviously I don't expect anything from her, but god we haven't been in love in forever...I don't think we've been in love past the first year of our marriage if at all...I'm not worth being in love with. Look at me. I'm impulsive, I'm complicated. High or not, I can't control myself or my thoughts. They get away from me sometimes and send me spiraling and there's never anything I can do to help it. She never understood that. She tried and tried and tried, but I never let her understand either. She gave up and I get it. I'd give up on me too. My only 'friend' if you can even really call him that is my boss, and he hates me too. He's so fed up with my shit...The only reason he won't fire me is because I'm one of the best and he doesn't want to lose me." I wipe my eyes as some stray tears fall down my cheeks. I won't cry. Not right now. Not that I can't. Not that I don't want to. I just feel so blocked. So bogged down, like a computer that's hacked with viruses. I need to be completely reformatted. 

Lizzie nodded, "It sounds like you feel really unloved. Like no one cares about you." 
"Yeah...I do. Because I am. Because no one does...Except for one person, and I can't see her. She's the same one who helped me when I got arrested, but I can't ruin her. She cares just enough to want to see me do better, but what happens when I do? What happens when I'm okay and I can get through the day without getting high? When I'm working full time again and not messing it up? What happens then? I'm no longer the charity case. She'll stop caring too. She'll think that I'm all stitched up and she'll get bored with me too." I bite my lip, envisioning the she that's really the he with the gorgeous black hair, the sweet chocolate eyes, soft skin and perfect face. I need him. He just doesn't need me. He might think he does, but how can he? I'm not worth needing.
Lizzie quickly wrote something else down.
"I'm not sure that's the case. I think that you should give her a chance when you're done here and you're ready to open up again. You might be surprised. For now, I want you to do two things. First, I'm going to take you on a day trip out of here. You're too tense. You're going to get a massage and you're going to relax and let yourself go for a minute. Okay? The other therapists don't really do this, but I think it helps. I've had patients who really got some clarity that way, because they were feeling things on the outside, not stuck in their head because there was a calming environment that provided a nice distraction. So you're going to do that, plus I think it's nice for people to not feel so trapped in here, like you're in a facility that you can't get out of. That's not fair, I think. I think for some people, the structure of being here and only here helps, but I think you're different. You crave freedom, any sort of it but you choose destructive ways to get it.
So lets try a non destructive way. I have to be with you of course, but that's okay. I'll be in a different room. The other thing I want you to do is write things down that you do like about yourself. I know Jack had you writing in your journal every day when you were here the first time. I think that was a good idea too, to mark down what you've done, to see your progress but you already did just that and now I want you to add to it.
I want you to keep that up, but most of all, I want you to start recognizing the good in yourself. Let me give you some examples.
You're talented, and yes, you're complicated, but you're deep in the way that it's poetic. You're great at talking and expressing yourself, and I can tell that you're good at manipulating situations. That one can be good and bad, but when you put that to good use, it's a good skill to have about yourself. Can you give that a try?" She smiles at me. I offer her a tiny one back, but her mentioning Jack sends a huge sting into my heart and my gut. All I want is a hug from him. I don't need anything else for right now, just a hug. 

"Okay...You're really going to let me leave this place?" I ask, full of curiosity. I never knew that was an option. 
Lizzie smiled, "Well I could try to force you into group therapy, but I don't think that'll help you either. It didn't help last time. You're not one for too much structure. That's why you're in music. There's freedom of expression there. Right?" She's incredibly good at reading me. I'm actually glad that I asked for a new therapist. Not that Jack didn't help me, because he did immensely, but he helped me in ways that only he could do, Lizzie on the other hand is helping me in so many different ways that I think only she can do, and it's beyond helpful. I might stick with her after I get to leave here. She's good at psychoanalyzing me. Jack is a little better at that, but Lizzie is almost equal. Her approach is more gentle, it's fluid in a way that works for me. It's almost like she goes with the flow of her patients. I imagine that if I was some strung out doctor or lawyer, or someone who's more childlike in the aspect that they need to be told exactly what to do, a strict, fully structured environment would be perfect for them. That's not me, and she knows it. There's a strong fluidity in her suggestions with me and that excites me. It makes me feel like I have an actual chance at getting out of that maze in my head.
Lizzie opens my file and writes down everything, since it's the end of our session.
"No session tomorrow. After lunch, I'm taking you out for your day to just be free in a safe way." She gets up and opens the door for me.
I follow her, "Thank you." My tone is genuine. I'm so grateful for her. So I'm telling her a few tiny lies, fudging some details just a little, but that's okay. She doesn't need to know everything. What I'm saying about Jack is the entire truth, I'm just not saying his name. Admitting that he's a he, not a she. So I justify my actions and I think Jack would too.
I go back to my room and actually feel okay. I feel excited. I almost feel inspired. 


AN:// This is a bit of a filler chapter, one could say. I also think it's important though. It's setting our boy up for some much needed positivity.