What She Needs

48. Good Place

Good Place- DEMI LOVATO 

Meredith Grey

What is an epiphany?

The sun rising. The tide moving out and making a path for me to walk safely. A volcanic eruption. A hurricane, but also the calm and centred eye.  Exposed rock. A guiding star. 

 In school we were taught it to be the manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles. I haven't read the gospel in a while, though the modern dictionary definition seems to take its meaning from the bible: a moment of sudden and great revelation.

I'm not usually one to quote the bible.

I wouldn't use the word 'revelation' in regards to my circumstances. More like realisation. And perhaps it isn't an epiphany at all, considering this realisation has been slow and unsteady in revealing itself to me.

What makes it feel like the sudden dawning of Christ is the experience I've shared with Quinn. That came out of nowhere. The conversation was perfect...too perfect for it to have been of this world. Quinn had the answers I needed, and I hope I had the answers she needed too. Maybe, they were within each of us all along. Perhaps Quinn was an angel sent to kick my ass into gear... or more likely, just another slightly fractured human being who opened me up to what it means to truly be human and living. 

Living, breathing, hurting, bleeding, crying, recovering and doing it all over again. 

Why? I feel that is not for me to know. Ask Amelia, she's got this higher power thing down to a T.

So what's my epiphany?

I want to recover. I want to. 

And I mean that in a different way than I have before.

I've always wanted to recover, but I've wanted a life that isn't this one. I've wanted everything to go away, and I've wanted to go away myself. Hell, I still do. 

But somehow a 17 year old has managed to shift my perspective just back to alignment, and I feel like I'm seeing clearly and thinking rationally for the first time in a while. The kaleidoscope of vision is finally in line, each hexagon matching up so the light at the end of the tunnel is visible. 

"I don't feel ready, but I am ready to stop feeling so awful all the time." 

This is the line of Quinn's that has stayed in my mind since I left that exam room. It's stayed with me as I walk myself up to on call room five, grab my musty blanket and wrap it around my body. The phrase rolls around in my mind, and I can feel it on the tip of my tongue as I grab my pager. 

It's kind of contradictory, don't you think? I'm not ready to recover, but I am ready to have everything that recovery will bring me and be rid of the awful thoughts. Dr Garcia says no one is 'ready' for recovery. You can only want recovery more than you want your illness and that i'm hanging on to the eating problems as an identity trait. 

Am I actually engaging in therapy, or am I placating my therapist? Am I actively challenging myself with food or am I sticking to my food plan like another form of regimented restriction? Am I cutting to numb the pain or to prevent pain from even hurting me in the first place? I've removed myself from what it means to be human. 

But I think I am finally ready to let go of what has held me ransom for so long. 

Ellis Grey.

And in doing so, I know I have to get rid of this god awful, but oh so comforting brown blanket, it's edges balled in my fists. It's my mother's shroud I've encased myself in, thinking I'm tucking myself in for bed, when really I'm trapped under her expectation. 

And I know, I know. It's more complex than that. It's not simply deciding to eat.. is it. This could be a fleeting moment of optimism before I decide to throw up the Jello I forced myself to eat for Quinn. I've never done that before. It's a tempting first. I know stopping cutting won't be perfect. I've tried that before and landed with infections. This isn't the end, but a shift of mindset. A new outlook on getting through, rather than trying to go under or over and dodging the cards I've been dealt. 

Kaleidoscope altered. 

This is what I have to work with. I may as well utilise all my resources. 

"Hey Mer!" Addison meets me in on call room five. I've just paged her. She's slightly breathless, her cheeks aglow.

I thrust my blanket into her arms, telling her to get rid of it for me.

"Are you sure? You had this in the psych ward... it was your mom's right?"

"Exactly." I reply. "I'm letting go. I'm shifting perspectives. I don't want to hide under a blanket anymore."

"What are you really talking about?" Addison can see through my slightly metaphorical ramblings. She does take the blanket from me, but rolls it up and puts it to the side of her while sitting down next to me.

I lay my head in my older sisters lap, relishing in the comfort of her slender fingers massaging my scalp. It sends a little shiver through my body.

"Relax baby." She whispers, and for a second I feel five years old again, but I don't have that one image of mother holding me circling my mind. No. My mother is replaced by Addison, even this far back in childhood subconscious. My mother is slowly slipping away from my psyche. 

And after all this, should I tell my sister what I've realised?

"Addison? I want to recover from anorexia. From everything. I really really do want to beat this."

"You do?"

"I want to be a surgeon." I nod.

"You are a surgeon, sweetheart."

"No. I want to be a double board certified surgeon. I want a Harper Avery. Hell, I want four Harper Avery's, and not to spite my mother, but one for me, one for you and one each for Amy and Ari."

"Meredith." She mumbles, tears in her eyes. "We'll get you there baby. We will. I won't let you slip through the cracks."

"Addie...I-i ate a j-jello earlier." I begin to break down slightly, the gravity fo today really hitting me.

"You did? On your own?" I nod. "Oh I am so proud of you Meredith Grey. My god what an amazing sister I have!"

"Addie, I want to throw it up. I've never had those thoughts before."

Addison holds me tighter, explains that we're not going to let my huge leap forward be a jump backwards. She'll hold me until it's fully digested and I'd have nothing to throw up. Because today is a turning point. A Volta in my story of mental illness. 

So no, this is not an epiphany that has dawned from above. This is the power inside of me. The spirit of existence, the one thing in common we all have in our humanity.

I am making the choice. 

The sun rising. The tide moving out and making a path for me to walk safely. A volcanic eruption. A hurricane, but also the calm and centred eye. Exposed rock. A guiding star. 

All of it in it's harrowingly painful but blindingly bright glory.