Light in the Shadows

CHAPTER THREE


-CLAY-



I stared down at the spiral notebook in my lap. The pencil in my hand was limp between my fingers and I couldn't focus on the chicken scratch on the pages. My breathing had become shallow and my heart rate had accelerated to an alarming rate.

I was in the midst of a full blown panic attack. Dr. Todd was looking at me with concern which should have freaked me the f*ck out. Because not much marred the good doc's placid calm. But I must be making a massive spectacle of myself if he looked as though he were ready to put a tranq needle in my arm.

“Breathe, Clay. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Count backwards from twenty. Slowly. In and out.” Dr. Todd's words were firm and I needed that right now because my mind had rioted against me.

I followed his advice and closed my eyes, concentrating on the numbers in my head. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. I clenched my hands into fists, trying to control the urge to scratch at my skin until it bled. I needed the physical hurt to erase the horrible goddamned agony in my heart.

Not once did Dr. Todd touch me, no comforting hand on the arm or pat on the back. Which was good, because I would have punched him in the nose if he had. Instead, he sat in the chair opposite of me, counting with me down from twenty. Reminding me to focus on my breathing.

After going through the count down five times, my body finally started to unclench and my heart rate began to slow down. My breathing was less shallow and it felt safe to open my eyes.

“Better?” Dr. Todd asked me, the concern gone, replaced by his typical neutral expression. Some people might be bothered by the therapist’s lack of emotional response. For me, it was exactly what I needed. I had lived my life being ruled by my feelings, worrying about what those emotions would do to the people around me. So having someone sit there, seemingly unphased by my shit, was nice.

I nodded and put the pencil down in the crease of my notebook. I closed it without another look, knowing that what I had written on its pages was what precipitated the level ten meltdown. The sound of some sort of new age music punctuated the silence. It made me think of Ruby and in that moment, that was more crucial in helping me get my shit together than anything else.

“Man, I wasn't expecting that,” I let out in a quiet rush. I ran my shaking hand through my hair, knowing it was probably sticking straight up. Good thing I didn't give a crap about things like my appearance.

Dr. Todd smiled in understanding. “You handled that really well, Clay. You're learning to manage your attacks much better. You should feel good about that.” I knew the doc was trying to offer me something to feel positive about. But I didn't want any of it.

Just when I thought I had things under control, the reality of who I was smacked me squarely in the face. Being nuts was no fun let me tell you. I was a far cry from being the lovable eccentric. The wacky dude who mumbled to himself and wore his pants inside out. Nope, my kind of nuts was scary and consuming.

Sure, my new meds were huge in helping me regulate my swings. Therapy had been instrumental in allowing me to work through the millions of ways I was sabotaging my life on a daily basis. I was learning other coping skills, ones that didn’t involve a blade to my skin. I hadn't cut myself in over a month. These were all reasons to feel successful. I was a far cry from being the man I wanted to be. But I was getting there.

Then stuff like this happened. It was reality's way of smacking me in the face and telling me to wake the f*ck up. Have I mentioned how much I hated reality sometimes? If it were a guy I’d beat the shit out of him. Because if I couldn't even write in a damn journal about how messing up things with Maggie had destroyed my entire world, I wasn't ready to see the outside of these walls yet. And I wanted to be ready so freaking badly.

Dr. Todd said Maggie had become my trigger. Can you believe that? The girl who had easily been the best thing in my life was now my greatest nightmare. According to the good doctor, I was pinpointing all of my anxiety, all of my shame and guilt onto her shoulders. How messed up was that? After doing the “right” thing and letting her go, I couldn’t even have the memories of her. Because now when I thought about Maggie, I wigged out. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. It was way too reminiscent of how bad things became before I came to Grayson.

Dr. Todd was trying to help me work through it. I was seeing him three times a week and at least one of those sessions revolved around how I needed to learn to forgive myself. He said it like it was the easiest thing in the world. But you try to forgive yourself after you hurt everyone you have ever loved. It doesn’t make you the most enjoyable guy to have around, that’s for sure. Life of the party I wasn’t.

This process was painful. Actually it sucked balls. It was like forcing yourself to look in the mirror after you had been doused in battery acid. I felt ugly and raw. And I wasn’t a fan of the guy inside me that I was getting to know. But Dr. Todd was trying to make me see that I wasn’t the horrible person that I seemed to think I was. He was making me recognize that I was taking control of my life. That person that had hurt Maggie so badly was only a part of the person I was and he didn't define me. He liked to tell me that I had to learn to accept all sides of who I was if I hoped to be healthy and whole.

Once upon a time I would have laughed off the psychobabble. But now, in this reality, I couldn’t afford to do that. So I bit my tongue and drank the Grayson Center Kool-Aid.

Some days it worked. Some days I was able to talk about my relationship with Maggie without sobbing like a little bitch. There were times I left my sessions feeling like I was a step closer to being the person I wanted to be. The guy who would be able to show up on Maggie May Young's doorstep and tell her that his life would always begin and end with her.

Today was NOT one of those days.

Dr. Todd held out his hand for my notebook. I gave it to him, wishing he'd let me burn the stupid thing. Journaling had never been one of my favorite therapeutic activities. But the counselors here loved it. I had been told over and over again that sometimes it's easier to write down your feelings than talk about them. That when you feel overwhelmed, just jot it down. What-the-f*ck-ever.

I thought it was nothing more than an exercise in reminding me of my colossal screw ups. Hey Clay, sit down and write about how much of a jack ass you are! Sounds like a fun day, huh? I'd hate to go back through that thing and read the ramblings of a guy who had messed up his life and spent an inordinate amount of time feeling sorry for himself because of it. I’d rather be kicked in the nuts.

“Do you mind if I read what you wrote? I'd like to see what triggered your reaction,” Dr. Todd asked me. If I said no, he wouldn't push. Not about that. There were some things Dr. Todd pushed me about. Things he forced me to face even when I didn't want to. But the cool thing about him was that he understood when he needed to back the hell off. It's what made our dynamic work. Like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid. Except that I was in a mental health treatment center in Florida. And I wasn’t a gun slinging outlaw. Oh f*ck it, never mind.

The point was that I had fought therapy for so long that our easy candor was pretty unbelievable. It was no secret that I didn’t like people. I avoided them on a good day. But Dr. Todd was different. Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t look at me like I was crazy. There was no forced sympathy or condescending advice. He let me talk. Or he let me stay silent. He'd push when he needed to but let things go when I needed him to.

So having him check out my journal surprisingly didn’t feel like a complete invasion of privacy. Something I had written had thrown me into a tailspin and go figure, my therapist wanted to know what that something was. Made sense, right? Plus if I ever wanted to get out of here and get on with living my life, I had to figure out how to handle this new level of bullshit I had unloaded on myself. Why couldn’t my life ever be simple? What happened to the normal teenage experience? Shouldn’t I be making inappropriate remarks about girls’ tits with my friends and devising ways to get my girlfriend to screw me?

Nope, I had been given the shitty parents and chemical imbalance card. Woohoo! Lucky me!

I nodded. “Go right ahead.” My voice sounded thready and breathless from my most recent round with the crazies. Dr. Todd gave me a small smile before opening my lime green notebook. He thumbed through the pages until he stopped at the entry I had written. He had asked me to reframe a painful memory. He had told me to think about something that hurt, something that had been extremely difficult for me and to look for a positive to take from it. Reframing was hard on a good day.

Had I mentioned that today was a not a good day?

When Dr. Todd had finished reading, he looked up at me. “Well, you definitely picked a doozy to focus on,” he said in a way that made it difficult for me not to laugh. I appreciated his dry humor.

“Well, you know what they say. Go big or go home.” My lips quirked in an effort to smile. I probably looked as though my mouth were spazzing out.

Dr. Todd gave me an answering smile and looked back down at my notebook. “I'm glad to see that you were going in the right direction with this activity. Tell me what made you have the reaction you did.” Ahh, so now I was going to talk about my feelings. I just loved when therapy became so clichéd.

“Well, I think it's pretty f*cking obvious how I was feeling. I had a goddamned anxiety attack. I wasn't hearing the birds f*cking chirp and seeing rainbows, okay!” I bit out angrily. Dr. Todd closed the notebook with a snap.

“No, I'd say not. Don't get defensive, Clay. Now please tell me, what were you feeling?” he asked me again. I took a deep breath and tentatively started to think about the situation I had just shared in my journal. I had to be careful. I couldn't lose it again. I had come too far, I would learn to deal with this shit or it would kill me!

“Angry,” I said shortly, settling on the truth. I could have dodged the question, but after my little episode, I was too exhausted and way past hiding what I was thinking.

Dr. Todd frowned. “Angry, huh. At who?” I wanted to groan. That was a loaded question.

“Maggie. Me. Ruby. My parents. Take your pick.” I was feeling petulant. I knew this wasn't earning me any therapy brownie points but I was so raw I could bleed. I wanted to bleed. I wanted the pain that only a razor could bring. It would be a hell of a lot better than facing the demons that raged inside me. The demons that on days like today seemed to never be far from completely obliterating me.

Dr. Todd didn't say anything, he just watched me as I processed what I had just said. “I'm angry. With everyone. My parents are easy. They f*cking suck. They've never been parents. They just stuck my ass in here to rot.” I gave a humorless laugh. “They wanted me to lose it. They wanted an excuse to get rid of me. Too bad for them, I'm gonna get out of here and live my life,” I said vehemently and I saw Dr. Todd try to cover his smile.

He nodded. “You're feelings are definitely understandable. But more importantly, you are seeing that you are in control of your life, not your parents. You having control is what will help you move forward.” Sometimes Dr. Todd sounded like Ghandi or something. I could get annoyed by it, or I could hear his words for what they were. The truth.

“I'm mad at Ruby for making it so easy to deny what I was doing to everyone around me. If she had just laid it on the line, told me she knew what I was doing...” My words trailed off and Dr. Todd cut in.

“You would have gotten help? Stopped cutting?” he asked me pointedly. I arched my eyebrow, seeing what he was doing. He was trying to make me see how irrational that anger was. He was walking a very fine line. I could either get ragingly pissed or acknowledge the validity of what he was saying. It could go either way really.

For the moment I ignored the delicate balancing act and continued with my train of thought. “I'm mad at myself for being such a f*cking waste. For screwing up everything in my life. For not holding it together and letting my parents win,” I ended softly. I ground my clenched fists into my eyes, feeling a headache start behind them.

“And Maggie?” Dr. Todd asked quietly and I dropped my hands into my lap. Maggie. I was mad at her. Really flipping angry.

I grit my teeth. “I’m angry at her for making me feel, for a few moments, that I could have a normal life!” I said too loudly. I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down. When I felt I could keep going without blowing a gasket, I started talking again. “I’m mad at Maggie for giving me something that nearly killed me to lose when I invariably f*cked everything up. For showing me what perfect looked like right before I destroyed it. I'm angry as hell because she built back up what I had broken, she gave me everything; a life, a future. And now it's gone.” My voice cracked and I felt traitorous tears slip down my face. I wiped them away furiously. Damn it! I hated it when I devolved into this.

I took another deep breath, feeling my body shaking with emotion. Now that I had admitted it, I felt...better. See there boys and girls, therapy does work.

Dr. Todd was looking at me, that impenetrable calm firmly in place. How I wondered what was really going on in that head of his. Was he really that serene or was he just as f*cked up as the rest of us? What I wouldn’t give to know.

“That was hard to admit, Clay. Thank you.” He leaned forward so his elbows rested on his knees. “You're feelings about Maggie are intense. They are all tangled up with pain and loss. You can't separate the love from the hurt and that's what is triggering you. You say she was the best thing in your life, yet you have made her the focal point for all of your misery. We have to pull apart those two things. You can have one without the other. You have to keep working on your reframing. To recognize the positive where your mind wants to look at only the negative.”

Thinking about the situation I had written about in my notebook, I wasn’t so sure that advice was possible. I mean, how the hell was I supposed to find the positive in trying to kill myself? It wasn’t a trip to Disney World for Christ’s sake! It was me; taking a piece of a broken mirror and cutting my arms open to the point that I had to have forty-five stitches on both arms. I had heard the doctor in the hospital tell my parents that I had almost hit bone. I hadn’t been fooling around. I had wanted to die.

And for what? Because I thought, in my twisted head, that Maggie had betrayed me. I hadn’t been able to see that she was confused and scared and had really only been trying to help me. And that is where the guilt came in. Because it started that I had been thinking about Maggie and how for a brief second it had been the two of us, together, ready to take on anything. Then my mind went to that night. And all I could see was the darkness. The moment when all I wanted to do was die. And I had lost it. The panic attack swept me away in its merciless tide.

My anger picked up a notch. Why couldn't I just think of Maggie? Why couldn't I simply remember her without all the other nasty stuff, like guilt and shame and the soul sucking anguish? I only wanted to think of how much I loved that beautiful girl before I had turned our worlds upside down.

Maybe this was my punishment for being so weak and selfish. Karma was a vindictive jerk.

Because Maggie was my trigger. And it wasn't a good one. And I hated that my f*cked up mind had taken something so wonderful and warped it into...well....something ugly. Something that only served to remind me of what I couldn’t have. Something that I was trying desperately to be healthy enough for but deep down worried I never would be. No one had ever accused me of being a Pollyanna. I was not a glass half full kind of guy. But Dr. Todd was hell bent on changing that. And damn it, I needed him to.

I growled in frustration and tugged at my hair. I struggled to take a deep breath and loosened the grip I had on my scalp. I could do this. I could work through this maze of crap.

After a few minutes I sat up and let my hands hang limp between my knees. “Tell me something positive about that event in your life. Think, Clay. Think really hard. The thing about the shadows is that they're not all darkness. You need to have light to have shadows. So just look for it,” Dr. Todd encouraged me.

That was his mantra. Finding the light in the dark shadows inside me. He really should have T-shirts made or something. It made me think of a gospel choir raising their hands to the sky singing, “I’ve seen the light! Hallelujah I’ve seen the light!”

But I got what he was saying. But there were times it was impossible to do (with my natural pessimism and all). But I did as he asked this time. I thought hard about the good stuff.

“I guess if I hadn't bottomed out, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't finally be getting the help I need,” I said finally, feeling a bit proud of myself in being able to verbalize something good in that horrible mess.

Dr. Todd grinned, obviously pleased with my statement. “Exactly! The choices we make in our life don't have to define us. It's what we learn from them that's important. You making the decisions that you did, while the fact that they were made in pain doesn't change, the outcomes are what you make of them. And you have to remember that you are making significant strides in your mental health. You are miles ahead of being the young man who entered this facility almost ninety days ago,” he said with total sincerity. I could only nod my head.

“I have been hesitant to prescribe you any other medications, with your history with substance abuse. But given the severity of your panic attacks, I’m going to prescribe you a beta blocker, which is a mild tranquilizer that can be used to treat the physical symptoms of your anxiety. It isn’t habit forming but I would still only like them used as a last resort. I truly believe we can work on your triggers through therapeutic self-talk and relaxation techniques.” Great more drugs. Just when I wasn’t feeling crazy enough.

“The staff will know you’ve been authorized to use them when necessary. But again, Clay, I urge you to only use them if all else fails,” Dr. Todd said firmly and I nodded again, feeling like there was nothing else to say really.

I was relieved when Dr. Todd said our time was up. Today's session had left me feeling wrung out. He handed me my journal. “Keep using it, Clay,” he said as he opened his office door.

“Sure,” I responded, tucking the notebook under my arm. I headed out into the hallway and stopped. I didn't want to go back to my room. It was after two and I knew Tyler hadn't left for his group yet. I didn’t feel like company and I knew I wouldn’t be any.

My feet started moving and I found myself heading out a side door into a tiny garden off of the common room. It was entirely fenced in with three benches in a semi-circle around a stone bird bath. Sure the space was small, but it was a nice spot.

It was the middle of March and in the mid-80's. Perfect Florida weather. I sat on one of the benches, putting the notebook down beside me. Leaning back, I stretched my legs out in front of me, crossing them at the ankle. Linking my hands behind my neck, I tilted my face up and closed my eyes. The heat felt good. And the kinks that had knotted up during my session with Dr. Todd started to unravel a bit.

I could hear the television blaring inside the common room, but other than that it was pretty damn peaceful out here. The last hour had been brutal. I had been doing really well over all for the last four weeks. Sure, therapy and support groups got old after a while. Who wouldn’t get sick of relieving the shit in your life day after day? There were times I wished I could pack it all in and just say screw this. But for the most part, I was glad I was here.

I was quickly approaching the end of my ninety day stay. What the future held after that, I couldn’t tell. I knew that Dr. Todd and the rest of the staff would like me to stay on for a full six months. I just wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Then after that, I’d most likely be recommended for a group home to begin my outpatient treatment. Given the reason I was here in the first place, I should be thankful I wasn't in a straight jacket at a psych ward. I guess my parents' money was good for something. Because of their fear of public humiliation, I had been carted off to the secluded Grayson Center. And it had been the best thing they could have ever done for me. Even if their motives were purely selfish.

I hadn't seen or spoken to my parents since being admitted. They were supposed to be involved in my treatment. Which meant family therapy, regular visits, and the whole nine yards. I didn’t know how aware they were of my progress. I was pretty sure Dr. Todd had kept them in the loop but I had yet to hear a peep out of them.

I didn't know if I should feel relief or disappointment. Because that little boy needing his parents’ love still lived deep down inside of me. As much as I wanted to squash him, he was still there, waving his arms, wanting their attention. But then the almost adult man was much more of a realist and knew that those two particular individuals brought nothing but a whirlwind of shit with them and it was probably best that they stayed the hell away.

I wondered if they would bother to show up for my birthday next week. I didn't even want to think about whether I would be gutted if they didn’t.

I scrubbed my face with my hands and let out a noisy breath. Then without thinking, I picked up the notebook and let it fall open to what I had written. I propped it on my knee and stared at the barely legible words in front of me.

I remember your hair. The way it smelled when you woke up beside me in the morning. It's the best smell in the entire world. I lay in the motel bed and buried my nose in your neck. It was the most perfect moment of my entire life.

I hated that such an amazing memory turned me into a panic ridden freak. I wish I could just think of Maggie without crumbling. But the reaction was intense and instantaneous. I recognized the flutter of my heart and my breaths becoming shallow. Here we go again.

God damn it! NO! I mentally screamed. I forced myself to think of Maggie's eyes. The way they crinkled when she laughed. My heart was pounding so heavily in my chest; I could practically feel it rattling my ribs. KEEP GOING! I thought harshly. Stop being such a p-ssy!

Kissing her that first time, even after acting like a total a*shole. The way she had melted into me. Cherries. That's what she tasted like. Just like her lip gloss. Was it weird that I bought a stick of it after that kiss and would carry it in my pocket, just so I could taste it? Yeah, that was most definitely weird; I wouldn’t be admitting that out loud anytime soon.

I felt the dizzy lightheadedness of my panic attack as I forced myself to relieve the memories. I was terrified that I would make myself forget them just because they hurt. And as painful as it was to remember what I had lost, it was much more frightening to think of my life without those memories at all. I needed them. They were my reminder that there was something for me on the outside. Something worth fighting for.

I took deep breaths as I concentrated on the memory of my girl. The thousands of tiny moments that flashed through my head like a movie. And after a while, my heart started to slow and my hands unclenched.

“Working on your tan?” a teasing voice called out. I snapped out of my head and focused on Maria as she stepped through the doorway and into the garden. I gave her a weak smile and lifted my shoulders.

“I was feeling a little pasty,” I joked back half-heartedly. Maria narrowed her eyes and I knew she saw through my pathetic attempts at nonchalance. Maria had become a close enough friend that she was able to call me on my bullshit with the best of them.

“Well, you'd best get inside, group starts in ten. You look like you could use a coffee,” she suggested, waiting for me to get to my feet. As I got closer, she tossed me something. I caught the package of Twizzlers and was finally able to give her a genuine smile.

“Figured you’d need them,” Maria said lightly as though it wasn’t a big deal. It had become our thing. After a session, Maria would bring me Twizzlers and I would give her a bag of unsalted pretzels from the vending machine. Stupid maybe, but it was the little stuff that made the bigger, terrifying stuff easier to stomach. Maria understood that those sorts of things were important to me. I needed those tiny, seemingly insignificant gestures.

“You have no idea,” I muttered, tearing open the package. And now we were off to group therapy, fan-flipping-tastic. I took a deep breath and steeled myself for another sixty minutes of sharing my feelings. Maria looped her arm around my waist and leaned into my side. I stiffened, still not feeling entirely comfortable with her easy physical affection. I had never been the touchy feely sort. Particularly not with someone whose name wasn’t Maggie. So this felt wrong. Like a betrayal. Which was ridiculous. I wasn’t with Maggie anymore. And even if I was, I wasn’t remotely attracted to Maria.

But that didn’t change the fact that I knew Maria was attracted to me.

But I didn't move away. And I didn't respond either. I tried not to look as relieved as I felt when we reached the coffee machine and she dropped her arm. “Tough session today, huh,” Maria stated rather than asked. It had to be pretty clear on my face that I was not in a tap dancing kind of mood.

I grabbed the Styrofoam cup from the machine, opening the top in order to dump three packets of sugar inside. I stirred my drink and snorted. “Yeah, you could say that. It's been a pretty crappy day all around,” I admitted, waiting for Maria to get her hot tea.

Maria gave me a sympathetic smile. “That sucks. But just make tomorrow better,” she told me. I swear, sometimes I felt like after we all left this place, we could easily get employed writing f*cking fortune cookies. When life hands you lemons, make lemonade. The day is darkest before the dawn. It was a joke. If I didn't need to believe that stuff so badly, I'd laugh at how douchy it sounded.

“Right,” I said shortly. Maria rubbed my arm and gave me a look that let me know a little too clearly exactly what her feelings were where I was concerned.

I cleared my throat. I had to tell her something, anything to stop her from getting too carried away. There was no way in hell I would ever be able to reciprocate her feelings. Not that she wasn't a great girl. But my heart wasn't mine to give away. It had been taken months ago and I didn't see myself getting it back anytime soon.

“Maria,” I started to say, moving away slightly so that her hand dropped from my skin. Her smile flickered and died. “You know I think you're awesome, right?” I said lamely. I couldn't launch into it's not you it's me. There was something fundamentally dickish about that.

Maria laughed without humor and gulped down her tea. “Yes, I'm awesome. And you really like my friendship right?” she asked with a surprising amount of bitterness. Christ, had I led this girl on more than I thought?

“Seriously, Maria. I'm sorry if you got the wrong idea...” and then she cut me off again.

She gave me a strained smile. “Nope, no wrong idea here Clay. I've seen the picture by your bed. I know the score. We're friends. Sorry if I made you feel like I wanted something else. Not my intention, I swear.” She held up three fingers in the Girl Scout promise thing.

Damn it, this had the makings of epic awkwardness all over it. Maria Cruz was easily my closest friend here. And at this point in my life, friendship was in short supply.

I jammed my hands into my pockets. “Look, you're my friend. A damn good one at that. Have I f*cked this up in some way?” I asked, trying not to grit my teeth together in frustration. I was sick of miscommunication and mixed signals. Couldn't I have one, uncomplicated relationship?

Maria must have sensed I was not able to deal with any sort of drama, because she backed off quickly. Her eyes dropped shyly and she started to chew on her bottom lip. “Sorry, Clay. I guess you're not the only one that's had a shitty day,” she explained, tucking a piece of dark hair behind her ear.

She reminded me so much of Maggie just then. Down to the dark hair and total discomfort. It made my heart squeeze tightly in my chest and I just wanted to fix this tiny problem. I wasn't in a position to fix the greater messes I'd created, but this small thing, I could do something about.

I leaned down and bumped my shoulder with hers. “Hey, we're cool. We'll always be cool,” I assured her. Her pretty green eyes blinked a few times, and then softened. Though she didn't touch me as she normally would. No hugs or arm taps. I was fine with that, but I felt a little bad that she felt she couldn't do it.

“Thanks, Clay. After group, let's watch some TV. I bet there's a daytime soap calling my name,” she teased. I made a show of groaning.

“Really? Come on don't subject my manhood to such an overwhelming display of estrogen. I know you want to watch something macho like American Chopper or LA Ink,” I joked.

Maria shook her head and I was able to fall into that small semblance of normalcy I had been able to create for myself.