“The chatter in the room is wonderful to hear. I really hope you’ve been able to take the last two weeks and develop your support group. In the coming challenges, it will be important to have your group understand you, guide you, and help you through the fears and tests you’ll face.”
Chatter? More like crickets in our circle. Even Daisy is quiet, which is surprising. I expected the closed-off, arms-crossed, slouching-in-his-chair Carter to be in attendance tonight—he always is—but even Hollyn is a little off. Does she feel weird after our conversation at the Cat Company? I hope I didn’t say anything to offend her.
“Over the past few weeks, we’ve talked about grieving, letting go, and building support,” Marleen continues. “Not everyone will be at the same pace. Some of you may still be grieving.” Uh yeah, I’ll probably be grieving for the rest of my life. “Some of you might still be holding on to the past, not quite letting go just yet. And some of you might be tackling this program head-on. Being forced to move on to the next stage when you’re not ready isn’t helpful. But here you can learn a few strategies, new skills. You move at your own pace, but take in the challenges when you can. Learn from your peers and as always, spend each day proving your existence. As you would have seen in your information pack, there are names of psychologists who specialize in trauma counseling especially. Please ask if you would like to pursue more one-on-one guidance. The one thing I don’t want to see, is you staying stagnant or regressing to the person you were before you came to the program.”
Staying stagnant, hell, I’ve felt stagnant since Hope was born. I feel like I’m still in that hospital room, handing her over to June and Alex, the feeling of total heartbreak coating me, constantly clogging my soul with pain. It burns, sears me, and mostly turns me from hot to cold in seconds. It’s like the movie, Groundhog Day, living in a vicious cycle of the same day over and over again, but instead of having to report the weather and trying to score with women like Bill Murray’s character, I’m in a constant state of nausea and utter depression.
“For the rest of the evening, I would like you to talk to your group about the progress you’ve made, your feelings, what you perceive your holdbacks might be, and what you want to start accomplishing. As always, when you’re finished, write your letters, refer to your book for the next challenge, and feel free to ask me any questions you might have.” She claps her hands and says, “Have at it.”
She’s a little too enthusiastic for me. Marleen, hint, hint. Some people in this program can’t take the go-get-’em attitude all the time.
Circling our chairs together, we face one another and wait for Daisy to speak up like usual but she doesn’t. Her gaze is cast down and she has an obvious slump in her shoulders. Not liking what I’m seeing, I ask, “Daisy, how are you doing? You seem quiet tonight.”
Surprised I singled her out, she lifts her head and looks around in the circle, her eyes shifting longer over Carter who is fiddling with a pen, expertly flipping it through his fingers.
Before answering, she fidgets in her seat. “I feel a little disheartened.”
“Why are you disheartened?” Hollyn asks, true concern in her voice.
“I guess I feel like I’m trying, but I’m not really doing a good job at it. I’m quite clueless as to what I’m trying to accomplish and I’m afraid the person I want to strive to be will never show up. It just seems like I take one step forward only to take a few steps back.”
“What happened in the past few days that has made you feel like that?” I ask.
Glancing again at Carter, Daisy takes her time to respond. Something has to be going on there, but with Daisy’s vague answers and the inability to read Carter, I probably won’t be able to figure it out.
“Nothing per se, but I was looking at myself in the mirror the other day and I didn’t necessary like the person in the reflection.”
“I can’t speak for Jace and Carter, but I know the feeling, Daisy. It’s been a while since I’ve liked the person in the mirror. The person I see is broken, tired, sad. She’s given up.” After speaking with Hollyn, and really looking into her eyes the other day, I see the woman she’s talking about. It’s evident in the half smile she gives, the sorrow in her voice, and the constantly sagging posture in her shoulders.
“Given up relates to me as well,” I add, wanting Hollyn to feel like she’s not alone. “I don’t feel the motivation I used to. I’m going through the motions because I have to, I’m obligated to, but I don’t feel the same thrill when I’m in the batting cage, or training. It’s just like my body is in a constant state of numb.”
“Numb. It’s the perfect way to describe it,” Hollyn agrees with me. “Like nothing can penetrate the veil eclipsing you.”
“Does it feel like you’re almost choking?” Daisy asks meekly.
“Yes,” Hollyn and I answer. Carter, of course, is nowhere near the conversation. He’s off in his own little world.
“I never realized how much I was missing out on, how sheltered I truly was, until I started living outside the bubble I was in with Grams. Now, seeing how Amanda and Matt interact with others, how easy it is for them, makes me wonder if I’ll ever be like them or if I will forever hide behind my craft table awkwardly wishing I was able to be a part of everyone else’s world.”
Tossing the pen to the ground, Carter lifts his head, anger seeps out of him. “You don’t want to be like everyone else, Snowflake.” His tone is harsh, menacing. “This world is all kinds of fucked up. Hang on to your innocence. You don’t want to be a clone. Be you. Own you.”
Own you. Those two words resonate with me.
“Own you,” I repeat softly and then a little louder. “Own you.”
Looking around the circle, into the eyes of my peers I was randomly put together with but for a reason, I say, “Carter is right. Own. You.” Taking a deep breath, I decide to step up. This feeling that’s eating me alive has to go away somehow, I don’t want to feel fucking sick anymore. “We are all here for a reason, because of something holding us back, whether it be our upbringing, a loss we’ve suffered, or a setback we’ve experienced. We are here to change. Like Marleen said, we’ve been given the tools to grieve, permission to acknowledge and experience the hole our grief caused us. Then, we let it go. We’ve been building the relationships between us, but perhaps what we need to do is accept who we are now, and move forward. Own. You.”
“What if we don’t like who we are?” Hollyn asks.
“You have to own it to change it,” I answer back. “Right, Carter?”
“Sure,” he says, reverting to his unsociable self. And here I thought he was going to be helpful . . . for a second.