A World Alone

Chapter 6

"All the pain and suffering had become tunnel vision, and for her that was the most dangerous thing."

I had woken up in a new bed. Not the one I had in the hospital. Not the one I had under the bridge. Not the one I had in my mother's home. I woke up in a new bed with fresh sheets, a purple thick blanket, and many soft pillows that felt as If they were full of clouds. My bedroom, was much bigger than what I was used to and for that it was abnormal. I smelled the faint scent of pancakes being freshly cooked which had my feet wanting to drag me down the stairs. I never thought I would ever show up to this point in life. I thought my miseries were ending that night I took the big leap off the bridge, but is it safe to say I am grateful I hadn't succeeded? I have grandparents, who are downstairs making pancakes for me. They seem to want to care for me, and be part of my life.

I am in Canada now, there's no old life. There's no bridge, no mom, nothing that can hurt me. I'm scared that I will wake up any minute now and all this was a fever dream. Everything that happened this week was just my coma conspiring against me.

"Klara!" I heard my grandma call my name, "It's time to get up you have group therapy soon." Well now, I am definitely awake. I had forgotten about this group therapy ordeal.

Getting up I went to my bathroom and combed my hair out. It was slightly greasy and so many knots bundled up as if it was a rat's nest. Afterwards, I brushed my teeth with the new toothbrush and toothpaste my grandparents bought for me the other day.

I was a little nervous about the group therapy because I didn't want to go. I just kind of wanted to continue my life without having to do therapy, which felt like a chore.

I went to my closet and took out a grey hoodie and grey sweatpants which was my attire most of the time.

I decided to go downstairs and greet my grandparents. My grandpa handed me a plate with two thick pancakes which had butter and syrup drizzled all over it. It looked as good as it smelled and suddenly my stomach growled in hunger pain. "Do you want orange juice, milk, or sweet tea?" my grandma asked me with a smile.

"Milk please." I answered her before sitting down at the table. She put a napkin down with some utensils to use. I grabbed my fork and started taking a bite of the meal she had prepared.

"Also if you want more pancakes don't hesitate to ask, I just didn't want to give you too much or too little." She explained to me before putting a glass of milk in front of my plate. "And don't worry about having to finish it all either!" I slightly smiled at how my grandmother seemed to work. She worried very much about others and took precision into doing things for them.

"It's perfect Esther, thank you." I said before taking another bite. My grandma sat down beside me at the diner table.

"I will take you to your group therapy in 20 minutes and then tonight we are going to eat dinner at Elizabeths." she fiddled with her fingers, "are you feeling okay to go to therapy?" she asked worriedly.

I gulped and smiled, "it will be okay, therapy feels mostly like a chore to me but at the end of the day I could probably do good with it." I explained, "I had been to therapy before but not for long because the government could only cover my fees for such a limited amount."

"Well you know the US and their poor healthcare," my grandma sighed, "I just hope you don't feel alone. I am here for you, both William and I." she reassured me.

I nodded at her and returned a smile.

"Good morning everyone. We have some new patients joining us today so why don't we give a clap for the accomplishment of getting help." I was sitting in a circle with other people, as they clapped and cheered when the therapist had asked. We were in a gymnasium with bright lights, sitting in navy blue metal chairs. The therapist also sat in the circle with a clipboard in his hands and a black inked pen. He had a grayish beard on his face which was the same color as his head. He wore a red flannel and jeans with some holes in them. His feet were adorned with black boots which made him look as if he chopped wood for a living. His name tag read Chris. "Okay now just to remind you guys, we will be learning coping mechanisms, skills, and talk about our feelings and share things that we may need to get out. This area is confidential and your privacy will be protected under protocol. That means no one is allowed to talk about what other's say." Everyone nodded and hummed at him with agreement. "Is there anyone who would particularly like to start? Maybe someone whose already been here so we can show the new guys how this goes?" Chris asks.

Immediately, a woman who was at least 40 raised her hand. "well, I have some news from my lawyer about the divorce." she gulped, "He said I have a high chance of getting full custody of my kids from my ex husband, you know with everything he did to me. He said the evidence of my black eye and bruised neck should be enough to show the abuse I had to go through." she explained.

"That's wonderful news Cassy. How did this make you feel?" Chris asked.

"well... I was happy because I was scared my kids were going to have to see him. I was scared that he would do the same to my kids. I just want to protect them, that's all I have wanted to do which is why I always took the beating from my husband. And when my lawyer told me this news, I felt such an immediate relief. It's not confirmed yet, but the slight chance I have gives me hope." Cassy explained while tears fell from her eyes. She wiped her cheek with the sleeves of her shirt but smiled bravely.

"How do you think this would've went differently if the news had been opposite?" Chris asked with seriousness.

"I am sure I would've felt terrible about it. I would've felt like a horrible mom who couldn't give her kids what they needed." She answered frowning.

Chris nodded, "But that wouldn't be true at all Cassy. Because you are doing everything for them. What the lawyer or court does is not your fault." He explained. "Can you think of any coping mechanisms for bad news?" he asked her before crossing his legs

"I could journal the feelings I have?" she answered, almost unsure of what she said. It felt as if she thought her answer was stupid.

"Yes! that is a great one Cassy. And if you need a journal we have free ones at the front office. Journals are such a great way to express your feelings and really dig deep into what you're thinking about. It can also-" I looked at the ground where my feet laid. I began drowning out his explanation about journals and the greatness that come with them. It felt like I didn't belong here at all, most of these people were middle aged. And the youngest was most likely 27. I felt ashamed now of myself now. People my age are probably getting their degrees and jobs while i'm stuck here. And these people who are 40 years old and higher are still stuck in this pain. No matter how far they are in life? Will I be here when I am 40? 50? or 60? Will I be stuck in this pain forever too? Will it never stop ? And these people must wish they were my age or younger so they could start over again and avoid the people and conflicts that had destroyed them. They probably wished they could've been a kid again who didn't have any worries, or any fears. But I did as a kid. I worried about my mom, I worried about school, about food, about life, about my sadness. I never had the chance to grow up freely, or happy, or oblivious to the dangers of the world. I had to parent myself, I had to watch over my mom, I had to make sure she didn't go drive with a 8.0 score of alcohol in her system. That was my life, my childhood. My childhood was taken away from me. It was never something I was allowed to experience.

"Klara? You're Klara right?" I look up to see Chris staring at me after calling my name out. "Would you like to introduce yourself before we pack up for the day?" he asked.

I look around to see many people in the circle staring at me too. "Hi my name is Klara and I am 19 years old." I shortly said.

"And Klara, tell us about why you are here." Chris encouraged me to go on.

"I am here after attempting suicide. I actually came from the US but my grandparents brought me here." I explained.

"I am sorry to hear that, is there any emotions you could be feeling right now? like lost? or invisible?" he asked genuinely.

"uhm" I gulped, "I don't really know how to describe it." I say.

"Well maybe next session you will know the right words." He smiled at me, "You don't have to feel ashamed to speak about your pain. All of us here care. And none of us will judge you whatsoever." I nodded in response to him before looking down, I didn't want to open up at all. Opening up felt like a threat to me

"Okay well that is it for today guys." Chris began, and I stood up grabbing all of my things. I couldn't wait to get out of here. Group therapy sucks.