As I sat in a circle of strangers on hard plastic chairs, I felt like my world had ended. This was a part of my mum's terms, and quite frankly it was something that I could really do without.
Although, this option had been the lesser of all the evils!
Mum originally tried to sign me up to one-on-one counselling sessions, but there was no way I could do that. All of that intense, scrutinising attention gave me a mini panic attack just thinking about it, so when she'd talked about a group, I figured that would be much better. It made it even more appealing because it was run in the local community centre. I didn't even think it was being organised by a professional, just some guy with an online qualification, which was absolutely perfect for me. The less real this was, the better. If it had been at the hospital, or at the doctor's surgery, it would have felt too clinical for me.
I felt lucky to have found such a casual, slack group. I figured I could blend into the background for the meagre six sessions, skating under the radar until it was over, allowing me to get out of this nightmare and go back home.
How wrong I'd been.
This attention was going to be even worse than with just one professional. Here, I would have nine more sets of eyes looking at me too. I hadn't realised just how daunting that would be. Sure, they had their own worries to focus on, but there was no way I'd be able to speak out loud in front of them all. I couldn't tell my story to all of these strangers—even if theu kind of understood me. Maybe after today, I would have to find another solution. I just hoped mum would be as flexible as I needed her to be.
"...shall we go around the circle and introduce ourselves?" I finally tuned back into what the guy in charge of this bullshit was saying, just in time for him to strike cold fear into my heart.
I flicked my eyes around quickly, trying to see if anyone else hated this idea as much as me, but none of them had anything on their faces to suggest as much. They all looked ready for this, happy to progress. Urgh, why could no one else see how much of a waste of time this was? Were they actually expecting some sort of life transformation in six sessions? It was mental!
Everything that had attracted me to this course, now put me right off it.
I stared at everyone in turn as they spoke, creating a hum in my head so I didn't have to know any of their names. I didn't want any information about any of them in my brain; I didn't want any of their stories to affect me, or to impact on me in any way.
I just needed this over.
And then it came to me, and I realised I should have listened a little, if just to know what everyone else had said.
"Erm..." I sat up awkwardly, feeling an intense blush fill my cheeks. "My name is Lara." I coughed uncomfortably, noticing everyone looking at me expectantly. Did they want more from me? Were they assuming that I was going to tell my whole story now? My heart pounded painfully against my rib cage at that prospect, I was nowhere near ready for that today! I'd been expecting that much later on, if at all. "I'm twenty three years old." My mind had gone completely blank; I had no idea what to say. Stressed burned brightly in my stomach, and began to creep around my veins. "And I live...you know, here." I shouldn't have said that since it hadn't been the truth for a while now, but it spilled past my lips regardless.
"Okay Lara, thank you." The guy seemed to realise that I was struggling, and thankfully he intervened before it got really torturous.
As the attention turned away from me, and centred in on someone else, I let out a breath that I hadn't even realised I was holding.
That was painful!
My breaths were coming out laboured as the others took their turn to speak. I felt like panic was emanating out of every single pore, and that was making it all so much worse.
I hated this. This was going to be a horrible six sessions. It might have only been a short time—too little to make a real difference to me—but in that moment, it felt like it was going to be an eternity.
***
I didn't speak out again. Not for the first three sessions anyway. I simply sat there in silence, taking everything in. I couldn't stop from becoming inquisitive though as the days passed, and I found myself listening in to what others had to say, despite my best intentions. And the more I learned about everyone else, the more convinced I became that I really didn't belong in the group.
These people were serious addicts, people who had been battling against booze and even drugs for years—not months, like me. They'd gotten past the worst of it in proper rehab facilities, but still needed the discussion group to help them when things got hard. On top of that, a lot of them had been through some real problems in their lives—loss, abuse, neglect...the sort of thing I couldn't even begin to imagine.
My issues were nothing compared to all of this. I didn't belong, but I couldn't leave either. I'd already been through half of it, I was so close to being back to real life, and I didn't want to give it up now. Mum would never forgive me if I walked away, and I didn't want to shame her anymore than I already had. Things were strained enough at home, without bringing this into the equation too.
But even if I had to stay, I couldn't speak out. I was too embarrassed. I was pathetic compared to this lot, and I didn't want them to realise just how silly my issues were.
"So thanks everyone." Mr. Banks—or whatever the instructors name was—spoke out. "This is session four now, and it's time to try something new."
New?
I couldn't do new. This routine was fine by me; I was getting away with silence with the way things were. I didn't like the idea of changing anything, in case it worked against me.
"We're going to work in pairs, shake things up a bit." He smiled around the room, seemingly ignoring my horrified expression. "Now, this is normally met with distain, but trust me people always come around."
I highly doubted that.
"You'll soon see just how beneficial this can be."
I scanned my eyes around the room, trying to work out who was the chattiest. I wanted them as my partner so I could get away with speaking the bare minimum yet again. But it seemed like nothing intended to go my way today, because the most talkative people in the room acknowledged who they wanted to be partnered with using their eyes. They picked people that they already had a bond with, leaving just me and one of the older guys—who also didn't say much—to be together.
As we sat facing each other, I could feel my heart pounding so loudly it felt like it could burst out of my chest at any moment. Devon—my partner—was looking at me a little strangely, almost as if he could hear it, which was making me feel all the more uncomfortable.
"...and now I want you to discuss your stories with one another, giving feedback where appropriate. Then we are going to start of figuring out goals for the future—something to help you move on."
Oh God.
Stories...feedback...goals...
As the buzz of chatter started to flow up around the room, Devon and I continued to look at one another awkwardly. I felt my face heat up, and just to detract attention away from that, I felt forced to talk.
"So, erm..." I stammered. "Do you want to go first?"
Please say yes!
"Okay." He shrugged his shoulders, filling me with relief. "Sure. Well, I...I lost my wife a few years back, but honestly my problems started way before that. I love drink just a little bit too much." He said this dismissively, as if it was unimportant, but I could sense the loaded meaning there. It seemed like he felt things a little too much, like me, and he used alcohol as a crutch to hide that. "I mean, I'm done with that now, I don't drink at all anymore. I just...I guess I can't recover from the shitty decisions that I made."
"How did you get over it?" I found myself asking without really thinking about it. I leant my body closer to him, needing him to open up to me.
"I couldn't, until I was ready to. I had a moment of clarity, and that simply spurned me to make the changes. I had some medical help, but to be honest once the decision had been made I didn't really need it."
"Wow." I felt his words flow through me, and an encouragement sparked. If Devon could do this after going through so much more than me, then I could do. Maybe this could be my moment of clarity. Maybe his words would inspire me to do what needed to be done.
Maybe some good could come out of this after all.
"Do you mind if I ask what inspired you?" I knew I was digging deep here, that I was overstepping an invisible boundary, but I couldn't help it. I needed this information to help me. "If you don't mind me asking?" I wanted to give him the option; if he didn't want to tell me then I certainly wasn't going to force him—I knew how awful it was when people did that.
He slumped back into his chair, eyeing me, trying to see what this meant to me. I kept my eyes fixed on his; wanting him to understand that my intentions were honourable. He must have decided that I deserved this information because thankfully he continued.
"When I lost Hayley—my wife—I was a fucking mess." I flinched a little at his cursing, because it seemed so alien coming out of his mouth. Whatever he'd been through in the past, he was smartly dressed and well-presented now. It just sounded so strange coming from him. "I lost myself, and I wanted to feel something, anything." A sentiment that I understood well. "And I started picking up random chicks in bars, just wanting something to make me feel better." I almost gasped loudly at this statement. It was all too familiar to me. In a weird way, it was as if he was telling me my story. "Then one day, I just looked down at the woman lying in my bed and I realised that not only did I not know her name or anything about her, but that she was also young enough to be my daughter." He sighed deeply—but not as if the memory was painful, or that he was ashamed of it. Just that it was an accepted part of his past, one that he had no control over anymore. This attitude was amazing to me, I felt utterly horrendous about everything I'd done, every single time I thought about it. "Hayley would have been ashamed of me, and that's what made me know that it was time to grab my life back."
I felt my eyes well up uncontrollably. I didn't want to get emotional—especially not in here—but I just couldn't help it.
"How about you?" Devon asked kindly, sending me a smile.
After all he'd told me, I couldn't hold back now. That didn't seem fair. "Erm..." I wiped a tear off my face quickly, cursing myself for allowing myself to break down. "Well, I...I..."
I just had no idea how to start, and Devon could clearly sense that. "Did you...lose someone?" He asked, which was a reasonable question since most people in the group had.
"No, not exactly." I blew out a terrified breath of air. "It was me that was supposed to die."
For some reason, getting that piece of information out in the context of this group was lifting. I felt a little better for doing so.
"But I got better." I nodded, as I continued. For a second, it seemed like Devon was going to jump in to ask me something, but then he thought better of it and pursed his lips shut. "I just...I don't know how to be alive." I laughed uncomfortably, but the tears weren't disguised by that.
Devon nodded, as if he really understood what I meant, and I felt in that moment that he did.
"I guess since then, my story has been similar to yours." I shot him a shaky smile. "I started to drink, to...to try to feel..." I was too embarrassed to say it out loud, but I hoped that he got my meaning anyway. "I don't know to get out of this funk. Every time I attempt to move forward, I keep messing up."
"Okay guys." Mr. Banks clapped loudly, grabbing all of our attention. I tried to discreetly sort myself out as he talked, but it was a fruitless task. "We need to move on to goals now, to how we're going to move forwards."
Me and Devon looked at each other a little awkwardly, wondering how we were going to get from all of that to something new.
"So, what now?" I grinned through my shiny eyes, trying to lighten the mood.
"I don't know." Devon sighed. "I'm past the biggest hump now, I'm done with booze, but I'm still a little stuck..."
"Yeah." I nodded distractedly, already thinking about my own goals. I was sure that I could overcome the drink now. In fact, I was positive of it. I wasn't exactly addicted or anything, I just liked the way it helped to block out all of my problems. But I wouldn't do that anymore. I would tackle them head on. It was everything else that I needed to work on.
A list started to form in my mind:
1. Make up with my parents.
2. Sort things out with Daphne.
3. Apologise to Kimberly.
4. Try to speak to Charlie.
5. Organise my apartment.
6. Think about what I want to do with my life, and get some kind of job...
But the list started to pile up and up, already feeling impossible—and that was just the easy parts of getting organised. I hadn't even gotten to the real challenges yet.
I sighed sadly, tuning out Devon's talk as I tried to work out what the hell I was going to do next.