"I’m not going in there. It won’t help."
"Well, you won’t know until you try." He takes a long drag off his cigarette.
"You don’t think I’ve tried!" I yell, jumping out of the car and stepping into his face.
"Well, get your ass in there and try again. It obviously didn’t take the first time." He blows smoke into my face. "That bullshit back there about offing yourself is ridiculous. You went through hell and back to save Erica. Now walk your bitch ass in there and take the first step to save yourself."
I open my mouth to tell him to fuck off, but he stops me first.
"Or maybe I’ll call Erica and have her meet us up here. You can deal with her face to face. Tell her all about that shit you spewed to Slate back there. Your choice." He smiles, knowing that he’s won.
"Goddamn it," I mumble to myself as I head inside.
The meeting is already in progress, and a thin woman is standing on the makeshift stage. I grab the chair closest to the back and try to blend in while planning my escape.
"Hey, y’all. I’m officially done with this place," she says, and the room claps, making me roll my eyes.
This is ridiculous. Just as I ready myself to leave, the frail woman stills me.
"This might be my last day, but you should all know that I’m not healed, fixed, or magically restored to be the person I was before guilt and self-loathing took over my life. I’m still just as broken as the day I walked in here." She sucks in an emotion-filled breath before continuing. "I think it’s important for you to know that I sat right where you are sitting for two years. I listened to people tell me how fantastic they felt as they said their goodbyes, but I’m here to inform you that it’s all a load of shit."
Her honesty intrigues me and keeps me rooted in my chair. And when she smiles, it’s guts me. Even though I’ve never seen this woman before, I recognize that pain-filled smile. I’ve seen it almost every time I’ve looked in the mirror for the last four years. That’s my smile.
"This may be shocking to some of you, but even after what seems like a billion hours of therapy, I still hate myself for the things I have done. I physically ache when I think about the people I have hurt. The only difference is that, now, I know how to handle that pain. It doesn’t shred me anymore, and that in and of itself is more than I ever could have asked for when I walked into this room for the very first time. So, today, as my final parting words, I’m not going to fill your head with false hope of ever completely reclaiming your life. I’m going to fill it with the truth about overcoming and starting over. Today, I’m going to tell you my story. It’s a long one, so I hope you grabbed some coffee."
She smiles again, and I know I won’t be able to budge from the chair even if the building suddenly catches fire. She never even looked at me while she was speaking, but her words hit me harder than any counselors’ ever could.
It’s as if she were speaking directly to me.
For over an hour, I sit, riveted, listening to her recount her years of struggle— from the attempts to end her life to her seclusion from everyone who ever loved her. She doesn’t pull punches or spin it in a way that places her in a positive light. She gives every gory detail. She speaks about her emotional breakdowns, and it’s exhausting just to hear her talk about it. I can’t imagine how she must feel reliving it. But with every word spoken, I can see an invisible weight lifting from her shoulders.
She’s not being broken down—she’s being freed.
For a minute, I’m so jealous of this woman’s strength and her ability to overcome everything she’s been through, that it makes me ill.
"So that’s my story." She finishes with a loud sigh. "Just so there is no confusion…I’m still that person. I’m just a better version with better resources and better support. I’m not alone anymore, and neither are you. Every single day, good people do bad things. And I’m no different. The hardest part about life is putting one foot in front of the other to move past that pain. But I swear to you, inch by inch, you will get past it. It doesn’t disappear, but it’s no longer staring you in the face. You’ll see—just like I did."
I watch in awe as a single tear drips down her chin. She nods to the doctor in the corner, who’s beaming with pride. He attempts to approach her, but she waves him off. Smiling, she tucks her head low against her chest and walks from the building.
I swallow hard as my eyes frantically race around the room. What the fuck just happened? My mind is left spinning. How did that woman know exactly the words I needed to hear? I only know one thing—just like her, I want to own my regret.
I grab my phone from my pocket.
"Leo." Erica’s sob comes across the line.
My voice is shaking, but I finally manage to say the one phrase I hope will release me too, "I need help."