Evelyn's Lesson In Recovery

Giving Up

I wake up, drenched in sweat and crying at seven o'clock. I had a horrible nightmare. I take a shaky breath, but I can't stop crying. In my nightmare, I was throw in that padded room and restrained again. Then, two male nurses gave me a shot in the butt. I grip my hair, trying to stay anchored to the real world. I sob harder, feeling like a mistake and like I'm in danger. "Make it stop!!" I cry as I feel myself lose touch with reality, momentarily flashing back to yesterday when I was put in that padded room.
Someone comes into my room and I quickly try to hide how upset I am. "Delilah!" they call, closing the door. I cry harder, I'm so scared and I can't figure out why. Why am I having flashbacks to yesterday? Why is this happening? Why can't I just block everything out?!! Delilah comes in suddenly as I sob and rock. "Honey, are you okay?" she asks, sitting down. I shake my head. "Take a deep breath, everything is okay." she says calmly. I suddenly realize this is a panic attack. I shake my head and cover my ears. "Evelyn, you're safe here. It's just a panic attack, you know that. Use your relaxation techniques and you'll feel better." she says, moving my arms gently. I pull away, terrified of everything.
"I'm dying." I cry, my chest hurting horribly all of a sudden. "No, you aren't. Panic attacks do this and you know that in the back of your mind. Close your eyes and lay down." Delilah says, helping me lay down. I try to fight her, I don't want to resign to the panic attack.
"Stop!!" I yell. "Evelyn, just.....trust me. Close your eyes." Delilah says, putting her hand gently on my shoulder. I cover my eyes with one arm and cry, feeling an inch from death. "Okay, now take a slow deep breath." she says. I try, but I can't breathe. "I can't breathe!!" I sob. "Yes, you can." she promises. I shake my head and say, breathlessly, "please just get out." "Do you want me to give you something to help?" Delilah asks. I nod, still unable to breathe. Delilah leaves and I take the time alone to get my hidden blade. I cut into my legs and feel peace, finally. Delilah comes back in and she instantly notices the blade and cuts.
"Evelyn, no! Give me the blade." she says. I give it to her and look down. My legs sting, but the panicked feeling is finally gone. "Evelyn, I know it gives you relief, but it isn't healthy. Self harm causes more problems and it makes recovery from depression and anxiety disorders that much harder!! You have got to stop!" she says, holding my hand gently. I shake my head as I pull away and cover my legs. "I understand it's hard trying to fight what's inside your mind. Please, just try. It might hurt and you might struggle, but you need to try. Change hurts, but staying this way hurts more." she says.
"Now, let me clean and bandage your legs." she says. I let her see the cuts on my legs. "You need stitches." she says. "I have to go get Frank." she warns before leaving. She comes back in with my psychiatrist, who asks why I did this to myself. "Panic attack." I mumble, avoiding his eyes. He starts stitching the cuts closed without numbing me. I cry and try to get away from him. After he's done, he leaves. I sniffle and try to ignore the pain he caused. Delilah bandages the stitched cuts and says "it will feel amazing when you can look back and say, honestly, that you've made it."
"I won't." I say, feeling like the only way this will end is if I kill myself. "Evelyn, are you having suicidal thoughts?" Delilah asks. I nod, able to be honest with her. "I can't say don't because there's no way to do that here, but I'm going to ask why." she says. "Nothing I do helps. I've tried not to self harm, but I had to to get rid of my panic attack. I've tried to be happy, but I just fall apart. I try to be strong to leave, but I do things that get me trapped here longer. I try to ignore how I feel, I just fall apart worse. The only way I'll feel better is if I die!!" I say, giving up on everything. Delilah tries to get through to me, but I just ignore her.
"I'll talk to you later, sweetie." Delilah says, finally giving up on getting through to me. I lay in bed and think over everything I've ever done wrong. I can't wait for death to come relieve me from this fight. Nobody cares about me, I can't trust anyone, I should just die. I think about what Harper would say right now, but it's just the same 'you have so much to live for, things change' junk I'm hearing now.
I'm told to go to Frank's office. I trudge in and plop down. "So, your anti-depressants aren't helping because of the reduced dosage." he says. I fight the urge to scream at him. It has nothing to do with the anti-depressants!! "It has nothing to do with my medicine." I say, frowning. "Yes, it does. Your depression is chemical imbalances. Your medicine regulates those chemicals, so therefore it is very related to your medicine. I'm raising your medicine for depression and panic attacks, good luck." Frank says, motioning for me to leave. I quickly leave his office, slamming the door.
Why is he so focused on medicine? Harper doesn't focus on medicine, she focuses on counseling and trying to help me cope. Frank is horrible!! I can't believe I'm saying this, but I miss harper. I give up on trying to let the medicine control everything, if it does, it does; if it doesn't, that's not my fault. Everything seems to be a 'chemical imbalance' which I think is just psychiatrists' way of saying they're too lazy to try counseling. I wish this would all just go away because I hate this.
"What did he say?" Delilah asks after I nearly run into her as I walk back to my room. "He's raising my dosage for the panic attack and depression medicine. Supposedly, everything is happening because of a 'chemical imbalance'." I say before pushing by and going to my room, just to be alone.
I don't eat at all and I just stare at the wall, waiting for the right time to go to bed. I'm starting to just go through the motions of surviving......this isn't even living. I'm in fifth grade and I'm pretty sure my life is over.