Evelyn's Lesson In Recovery

Not As Safe As You Thought

"Evelyn, it's time to get up." someone gently says, shaking my shoulder.  "No." I say, feeling completely exhausted from last night.  I open my eyes.  "Leave me alone, Lahni." I mumble.  "I don't want to." she says, mimicking my whiny tone.  "Shut up!" I snap.  "Irritated from having a bad night?" she asks.  I nod.  "It'll be okay.  Today might be a good day." she says.  I sigh.  "Time to get up." she says, playful pulling me into a seated position.  I fall back.  "Nope." I say.  "Not happening?" she asks.  "Nope." I respond.  "Is that all you can say?" she asks.  "No." I respond, starting to laugh.  "Can you say something positive?" she asks.  "Yep." I say, laughing harder.  She laughs too.  "Good girl.  Can you sit up?" she asks.  "Nope." I say.  She playfully groans.  I sit up.  "Now, get out of bed and go to breakfast." she says.  I groan.  "I don't wanna." I say.  "You seriously think I felt like getting out of bed this morning?  I work about eighteen hours a day, every day.  I get about five hours of sleep a night.  Get up." she says, a serious tone in her voice.  "You're right." I say, getting out of bed.

"I'll be around if you need me." Lahni says before leaving.  I go to the cafe and eat.  The food here has no flavor; it is so frustrating.  I take my medicine before I go to Kellie's office, still feeling super irrate.  "Hey." I say, sitting down.  "Hi, Evelyn, how are you?" she asks.  "Irritated." I answer.  "Does this have to do with your panic attack last night?" she asks.  I nod.  "Well, these things are expected.  They happen and there's nothing you can do, except learn how to cope with them.  It's hard, but you can do it." Kellie responds.

"No, I can't.  Every panic attack I end up having to take the emergency freaking medicine or being restrained and having freaking shots against my will." I say, feeling really discouraged.  "Evelyn, don't let these attacks bring you down.  I understand-" she says.  "No!!  You don't understand me!" I interrupt her.  "What makes you think that?" she patiently asks.  "You haven't had a panic attack!  If you had one of these attacks, you'd drop to your knees.  You wouldn't be able to handle it.  You haven't tried to commit suicide, you haven't accidentally cut yourself too deep and bled all over your house!  You just don't get it!" I say.  "First of all, you don't know my past.  Second of all, this is the irritability, right?  I can tell you're feeling very irritated and the way you deal with that is lashing out." Kellie says.  I nod, glad she can see through my words.

"Well, try to verbally express your irritability instead of lashing out at me." she suggests.  I sigh.  "Are you upset because of the severity of your panic attack?" she asks.  I shrug.  "Honestly, Kellie, I'm discouraged and disappointed." I say.  "Why are you disappointed?" she asks.  "I thought the medicine would help, but it's not.  I thought therapy would help, but it doesn't.  I thought I could get better, but I can't." I say.  "Is that the same reason you're discouraged?" she asks.  I nod.

"Well, everyone reaches this point in their recovery.....the point where you feel like you can't take another step and you don't think it could get better, but it can.  It's hard and can be rather scary, but I know you can do it.  Just give yourself time.  All of this takes time." she says.  "I want to pick up where we left off yesterday.  Do you remember where that was?  I could go through my notes, but that would be kind of superfluous if you remember." she says a few moments later.  "Second suicide attempt." I say.  "Okay, pick up there." she says.

"Well, I jumped in front of a car after I was transferred to a different foster home.  The car stopped just short of me.  My aunt put me in a different hospital.  After that I went to a rehab center.  I saw my friend there fall off a cliff and die.  The next thing I remember is my recovery.......there's a huge gap of time there." I explain.  "Explain what caused all this to come back." Kellie instructs.  "Probably the abusive relationship I was in." I say.  "Really?!" she asks.  I nod and say "that was one of the worst things ever.  He told me I was worthless, even though those thoughts were always there.  He said I deserved to hurt, so I started to become depressed again and soon I started to cut again.  He said that's what I deserve and to keep doing it.  I did.  My social anxiety returned because I was afraid of someone noticing I was self harming again.  With that became panic attacks.  He urged me to cut myself deeper.  I tried so hard to keep it a secret, but I went too deep several times.  I went to the emergency room and they kept recommending I go to a psychologist.  A few weeks before that, I stopped talking completely......even to my family.  I went to the emergency room a few times before my foster mom decided it was a good idea for me to go back to therapy.  Harper ended up getting me to talk and she learned of my well thought out plan to kill myself.  I was sent here for the first time where things got worse.......then better.  I was out of here for a few weeks before I was back to cutting.  It was different this time.  I was still trying to get better, so a few days to a week would go between self harming.  Then, after a while of that, I gave up.  I started thinking about suicide.  I didn't tell Harper though.  She would have sent me right back here, which would have been horrible for me.  I ended up attempting to suicide again a while after I was released.  I took every pill I had in my room with a cup of water.  I'm lucky to have texted Harper to tell her goodbye because she ended up making my foster mom take me to the hospital.  I was put in the ICU and I almost died.  I was close to becoming comatose, but I ended up coming out of it.  I was very violent and angry and anxious afterwards, so I did some things I shouldn't have.  I was sent here after that and I'm still here." I explain.