Music Therapy

5 || Chapter Seven

When I'm With You by Citizen Way

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"I know I mentioned it briefly yesterday," Dad began, prompting me to look away from the window and fix my attention on him instead. "But I wanted to formally ask you to come to church with me this Sunday. It'll be fun, trust me. I think it would be good for you."

I sucked in a breath, thinking back to last night and the realization I'd come to about Music Therapy. As much as the idea of going to church again and facing all of those people repulsed me, I couldn't help but wonder if a simple church service could give me the answers that I was looking for.

"Maybe." I finally said, the word hesitantly slipping off of my lips like the last bit of syrup in the bottle that was reluctant to drip out onto your pancakes.

"That's good enough for now." Dad assured me, as he pulled into the parking lot of Wallowdale United Methodist Church and came to a stop in in front of the door. "Have a good time at Music Therapy." he said.

"Uh-huh." I said, unbuckling, opening the door, and hopping out of my dad's pickup truck, my sandals slapping against the black asphalt as I landed on the ground. "Bye." I added, before closing the truck door and heading up towards the front door of the church. As I approached the door, it swung open to reveal a smiling Mark that evidently had been waiting for me or something.

"Hi Ellie." he said, holding the door open for me as he ushered me inside and led me toward the Music Therapy room.

"Hi." I mumbled, following him into the room and taking a seat on the couch next to him, scooting all the way to the armrest.

"Welcome, Ellie." Sammy greeted me. "Nice to see you so soon again." he added with a smile, obviously referring to when I'd been over at the Nortons' house just yesterday.

"Yeah." I agreed, a bit meekly as I continued to sink into the couch.

"Alright." Sammy said to everyone, clapping his hands together as he did so. "We'll open in prayer then." His words immediately prompted everyone but me to bow their heads and interlace their fingers in preparation for prayer. "Holy Father," Sammy began, "We praise You for this day, and for the fact that You are a God of healing and forgiveness and love. We apologize for our wrongdoings when we've fallen short of Your expectations and plans for us, and we ask that You help us to do better next time and to strive to be a better follower of You. Help us in our drive to heal and bring teenagers to You. Help us to help Ellie. In Jesus' name, Amen."

Everyone raised their heads and unlaced their fingers, all of them casting a glance in my direction. It made me feel uncomfortable, just as being mentioned in a prayer to a God that had failed me countless times before did. My arms trembled the slightest bit and I began to play with the hem of my long sleeve shirt with my fingers because I needed an excuse to keep them moving. Once upon a time I had liked being the center of attention, but that was a long time ago. It was almost as if with each person that looked at me, I was being reminded of another thing that was wrong and imperfect about me. Various degrading insults that were thrown at me by my mother came flying back and the speed of light.

Ugly. Worthless. Waste of space. Dumbo. Witch. Hideous.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to escape the onslaught but at the same time berating myself for succumbing to my own mind. Usually I could keep the insecurities and the undeniable truth about my self-worth hidden beneath the surface and only let it dominate a small portion of my thoughts. But like most of my panic attacks and moments of intense anxiety, often these feelings overwhelmed me without warning and overrode my facade. Usually I was able to escape those instances where every flaw seemed to burn and fill my head with an intense pain. But the truth was a terrible thing that always came back for revenge at some point. If only it didn't have to be now.