#Ugh i missed my therapy session yesterday too

[toucansafari]

Ngl my mind feels very frayed at the edges. I can't wait for next week to be over. There's a 3 day conference coming up. Just need to survive that.

[fordarkisthesuede]

At the Brink of Midnight - Chapter 2

Sorry for the delay! I had some things to work out, Arkham;s layout among them...

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Important Spoiler Warning:  canon-typical ableism

(Read on Ao3 or continue below cut)

Chapter 2:  The Lines In-Between

Bruce had gotten used to driving up to Arkham’s squeaky iron gates and waiting patiently for his visitor call to go through the recently-upgraded intercom, but he had to admit it still felt strange to look at the place up close. It was tall and dark, with the spires and slanted roofs reminiscent of some kind of gothic mansion rather than a mental hospital. Many of the older buildings in Gotham seemed like it, with their gargoyles and weather-worn stonework, always giving the rest of the city the sort of grim storybook atmosphere despite the varying designs of the skyscrapers and apartments and storefronts.

Bruce knew he should have been used to seeing it, considering he had been visiting it multiple times a week for seven months, but somehow it always felt like he was going to a different plane of existence. It was a very different world inside, after all…

Like Gotham’s architecture, the cars in the lot behind the building varied in their states of wear and style and year, but somehow it all looked right, even with Bruce’s black Maserati Gran Turismo parked in the corner. He passed by a beaten Saab with what looked like several bullet holes in the passenger door and a plastic bag covering the window and felt guilt start to gnaw at him.

Crime rates had gone up since he hung up the cowl.

He knew one man couldn’t save the city. He knew the GCPD were better equipped, and knew that Gordon’s recent reinstatement as Commissioner was helping, albeit slowly.

It didn’t stop him second-guessing himself.

Bruce had to walk around to the front of the building to get to the entrance; what was once dull and – quite frankly – creepy was now more polished and bright. The electrical system had been difficult to upgrade, but the result had been worth it. The asylum was looking more like a proper institution every week.

The receptionist was talking with a young red-headed woman in a white lab coat. Bruce took a second to recognize her – the young doctor-in-training from last time he’d tried to visit John. She’d apparently decided to cut half of her hair off in the meantime, leaving it in a short bob.

“Good evening, Mr. Wayne. I.D. and signature please,” the receptionist said mid-sentence into her conversation with the trainee, sliding the clipboard towards Bruce, “-so I said, ‘Honey, you know I’ve seen crazier things at work!’”

The trainee gave a short laugh; it sounded like one of those polite ones that always seemed to signify the end of particular conversations at parties. “Oh, I bet he shut up after that…”

“He did, he did,” Deborah Flint replied, flashing a smile up at Bruce as she glanced over his I.D. “You’re just here to see Dr. Thompson today, Mr. Wayne?”

“I think I can wrap the meeting up with him before visiting hours are over – I’d like to see John afterwards, if that’s alright.” Bruce didn’t miss the appreciative once-over the trainee next to him was giving him, but decided to ignore it.

“I’ll have to check over the patient notes I got this afternoon to see if that’s clear.” Mrs. Flint squinted at her monitor. “That’s strange, Dr. Thompson’s schedule says he should be finishing up with a therapy session upstairs in a bit… Miss Lant, can you escort Mr. Wayne there?”

The trainee flashed him professional smile. “Of course. Follow me, please, Mr. Wayne.”

“Thank you, Miss Lant.”

“You can call me Jackie if you’d like,” she replied cheerfully. “Everyone does. Just, uh, not in front of other doctors.”

Bruce smiled back as they went through the security check. The guard (Tom Welker, who often worked the evening shifts) watched Bruce’s belt and shoes pass through monitor with a scrutiny, but barely ran the metal-detecting rod over him and Jackie. Bruce had half a mind to tell him to check better, but Bruce had passed through it clean so many times before that he wasn’t surprised the guard was getting relaxed with him. And if he did check him better, he might confiscate some of the harmless contraband Bruce sometimes brought to John. Getting a milkshake in had been hard enough…

“Clean as ever, Mr. Wayne. Hey, Jackie, you’re missing something.”

Jackie immediately tapped her badge, then started going through her pockets, patting her slacks as well. “What could I be…?”

“My number,” Tom grinned, handing her a slip of paper. “I’m free Sunday, if you wanna have dinner.”

Jackie took it, but gave Tom a very unimpressed look as she slid it into her coat pocket. “I’ll think about it.”

“I know a place that does great thai!” He called after her.

“I met you last time I visited, didn’t I? You look different,” Bruce commented as they stepped into the elevator. “Did you get your hair done?”

Jackie blushed slightly. “Oh, um, yes, you did. And yes, I did – I had to have an emergency haircut yesterday. I stood too close to one of the inmates doors,” she said with a disappointed frown. “I don’t even know where he got the knife from, but he cut off my whole ponytail…”

Bruce raised his brows. “I’m sorry to hear that… At least you make it look good,” he placated with a small smile.

She flashed him a slight grin as her cheeks turned a little pinker. “Thanks.”

The elevator stopped, letting on two orderlies who merely nodded at Bruce’s polite smile. One looked at the ‘5’ lit up and turned to Jackie – “Jackie, their fixing the fifth floor’s elevator doors. You’ll have to take the stairs up there.”

“What?! Ugh…” Jackie sighed, pressing the fourth-floor’s button. “Sorry about this, Mr. Wayne.”

“It’s alright,” he said with a slight shrug. “At least it’s just a problem with the doors.”

The fourth floor was better than it had been the first time Bruce had been on it. The tile hadn’t been fixed yet, but the lighting was much better, and things just seemed clearer and cleaner. A security camera’s lens gleamed from the wall, brand new and not yet operational. The old camera down the hall could barely see them as they made their way towards the staircase. The stairwell was always cast in a yellowish sort of light in comparison to the clean white florescent bulbs in the hallway. Emergency lights hanging high on the walls made Bruce feel like he was in more of a prison than anything.

“Okay, patient 904’s room should be down there, so Dr. Thompson should be near there…” Jackie looked over her clipboard’s notes, eyes roaming over some kind of floor map as they walked up the stairs. “I swear, this place has the most ridiculous layout…”

Bruce said nothing. He honestly hoped they’d pass John’s room up there. He almost didn’t care if it was even occupied… Somehow, just the idea of seeing his space was oddly reassuring.

The heavy metal door opened to the slightly grayer hallway of the fifth floor. The red light above the open doors leading to the rec room area was blaring at him. How strange…

Then again, so was the fact that Dr. Thompson’s schedule had him with a patient at the time that Bruce was supposed to be meeting him. So was the real reason Bruce had picked now to check up on the place. Sizing up Crane in person and addressing John's concerns came first.

"Bruce?"

One simple word in the voice that Bruce knew he would never forget in a hundred years, and things suddenly seemed a little brighter in the dismal world of Arkham.

Bruce practically snapped his head towards the sound, and found John moving to lean against the bars of the Rec Room, a glowing look on his face like he had glimpsed something more than just a man. Like their argument two weeks ago was just water under the bridge. Bruce was drawn in, even as the trainee blubbered.

"Uh, Mr. Wayne, you -"

"I'm sorry, Jackie, can you... I dunno, give me a minute? I didn't get to see him last time I visited."

The trainee seemed to scan him, her dark brown eyes searching his face for a moment. She sighed, a sympathetic smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Two minutes," she said with a light kind of finality.

"Thank you," Bruce said as she walked to the corner and leaned against it, her back turned to them as she flipped through the notes on her clipboard.

"Still using that old Wayne charm, huh?" John smiled, his eyes gleaming for a moment before turning softer, his voice quiet. "Good to see you again, Bruce."

The orderly sitting behind the nurse’s station wasn't paying attention in the slightest.

"John," Bruce started, keeping his voice low, wondering exactly what he should say, "How did you...?"

John's smile widened as he gave a small excited chortle. "Don't worry, Bruce, I didn't do anything extreme," he emphasized with a look. "Swiped a few keys, locked the guards behind me, dialed the numbers I've had memorized for ages... And it worked! Here you are, in the flesh!" His hands, which had been grasping the bars like he could somehow pull them apart, raised palm-up at him, as if he was showing Bruce off like a prize. Bruce couldn't help but glance at them as they went back to holding the bars. "Can't say I didn't wish I had a Jokerang or two on me that day, but -"

"John -"

"I know, I know," John huffed with a frown, his thin arms sliding through the gaps to rest an elbow on the flat lock of the frame and putting the other hand on the very edge of the flat bar. They were close - it would be easy, really, for John to grasp his collar to pull him forward. Into what, Bruce wasn't sure. "Still," he said with a shrug and a sigh, his vibrant green eyes going back to stare into Bruce with something too soft and too knowing to make Bruce entirely comfortable.

"John, I tried to visit," Bruce began, feeling like all he wanted was to spill everything out at once. That he was sorry, that he kept coming at the wrong times for two weeks, that of course he would be there, that he’d always have John’s back -

John reached up, swiftly and softly, to put his finger to Bruce's lips. The skin was dry, but warm, and Bruce felt an awful urge to lean into it. "Shh. You're here now, and that's all that matters." There was no room for dishonesty there; John really meant that. The hand lowered slowly, the tip of it just brushing against Bruce's chin until it pulled away entirely, the residual heat burning his skin in the stifling air. "Just do me a favor, okay?"

There was something about the image of John leaning against the thing that separated their worlds only just, of hands reaching out to him through the gap in the bars, blurring the line that divided them, while John gave him that begging, vulnerable look so like the night the dream ended that it sent a jolt through Bruce’s heart. They might as well have been back in the control room.

"Don't ignore it. Don't shove the feeling in your gut aside and pretend it's not there, Bruce. I saw it written on your face the moment you rounded the corner." Bruce's heart thudded in his ears, the arms in his muscles tightening, his eyes wider than what he wanted them to be.

Bruce wasn’t sure what gut-feeling he was alluding to – did he mean the unusually strong attachment for him that throbbed and squirmed in a way that made Bruce feel uncomfortable putting a label to it, or did he mean the Bat still lurking beneath the surface, wanting to run, wanting to let everything out, scrambling to put all the pieces together before it was too late? Both things were the reason he stood there. He feared neither would fade away any time soon.

“Good thing I felt like pacing over here,” John (Joker) added with a painfully gentle grin, “or I would’ve missed you.”

He didn’t know what to say. He almost wanted to tell him how much he missed him. He could almost make a joke out of it.

"Mr. Wayne?"

The spell on Bruce snapped like a trodden-upon twig and he turned to see the trainee a few feet away, an eyebrow raised slightly at him.

"Hey, Jackie," John greeted with a little wave of his hand, a more casual smile playing on his face. "Showing our favorite billionaire the corners they allow you in?"

"John," Jackie replied cautiously, "you know I'm not even supposed to talk to you without supervision."

"I think Bruce counts," John said with a sly smile at him. Bruce felt the corner of his mouth twitch up on one side and hurried to keep it down.

"Mister Wayne," Jackie said with a more determined air, "Follow me, please."

"Thanks for stopping by, buddy," John said, his smooth mouth curved into a secretive smile. "Do me a favor and look up art for me, okay, pal? Walls are a little too bare here."

Bruce's mind raced as he fought to keep a straight face. Art - not artwork, but a name, short for Arthur. There were no Arthurs on the list of doctors, so he had to have been a patient or a guard. The smile tugging on Bruce's lips didn't have to be fought down this time. "I'll pick out something good for you."

"I know you will," John added with a knowing grin, withdrawing his arms entirely and stepping back from the bars. "Come back soon," he added with an affectionate tone and a much softer smile.

Bruce began to follow Jackie down the hall, glancing back just once to see bright green eyes still watching him, the smile on John’s face replaced with something that was anxious and contemplative at the same time. It made Bruce want to turn around, to ask what precisely it was that made John so desperate to risk the call in the first place, to tell him that he wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

Instead, he tore his gaze away and refocused on the task at hand:  finding out what exactly Arkham had used the funds he'd so generously given them for, and seeing if he could get a better grasp of this Dr. Crane.

Jackie tapped a plastic pen in the air as they passed by mostly-empty patient rooms; they came to a stop in front of an open one, the 904 card in the room plate. “Wait…” The trainee took another glance at the paper on her clipboard, and then back at the room. “Damn it. I’m sorry, Mr. Wayne.” She turned, giving a sigh and a look reminiscent of a lost puppy. “He must be back down in his office. I think we got the old schedule… I should’ve known he wouldn’t be up here if you’d made an appointment so close to a therapy session…”

It was true, but Bruce wasn’t going to complain. At least he got to see John for the first time in weeks, and since he was up and around, that meant he could visit properly later.

“As long as you know where his office is, I’m sure he won’t mind if I’m a little late.”

“…thanks.” Jackie shot a look down at her shoes. “It’d probably be faster to take the stairs the whole way.”

“That’d be fine.”

He followed Jackie down the aging concrete steps, noticing that she was looking a lot more contemplative than before. “I’m really sorry for dragging you all this way."

Bruce eyed the trainee carefully. She did seem frustrated at herself. “I imagine there’s always going to be hiccups in a place like this. Hospitals always have emergencies; I don’t doubt this place has its fair share of those, too.”

“I just wish they’d update this stuff so I wouldn’t feel left out of the loop like this. I guess most of that’s budgeting and priority, though, isn’t it…?” Jackie sighed slightly as they passed a security guard who gave a curt nod to Bruce’s civil smile. “At least his new office is easy to find. It’s right past the research bay – you ever see it?”

The heavy metal door marked 2 – WEST squealed as she opened it for him, holding it so he could pass.

“I��haven’t had the pleasure.”

“Oh, well, I’ll show you! We do medical tests there – it’s perfectly safe,” she added at Bruce’s wince, letting the door close by itself, “The patients are prescreened for the new medicines, and the bay only acts as an extra measure in case something goes wrong. The upgrades have really helped.” Jackie shot him a warm smile.

“Good to know.”

They passed an orderly escorting a patient alongside a doctor, but other than that the hall seemed empty and quiet until they turned the corner.

Five rooms, side-by-side, all had large glass windows showing in. Three of them were dark, but showed beds and monitoring equipment, like makeshift hospital rooms. One of them had the blinds drawn.

The last was lit bright, and a thin, tall man in a lab coat was seeming to look inside, tapping a pen against his mouth.

"Oh, Dr. Crane! I didn't expect to see you here today."

The stick of a man turned towards Jackie, the light reflecting off one of the lenses in his half-rimmed glasses as a hazel eye looked out at them through the other. It was a blank look that spoke nothing of the man's intensions - it was startlingly dull and lifeless for a forty-two-year-old man whose face looked like it could've been on the cover of GQ. For a horrible moment, Bruce wondered if the man was actually alive.

"Just finishing up some observations," Dr. Crane said simply, his high voice steady and relaxed. His eyes flickered down at the paper visitor’s badge sticking to Bruce's breast pocket. "I see you’re escorting Mr. Wayne around the premises."

"Oh, I was just leading him to the boss' office - I just thought I'd show him around a bit on the way. You know, showing him a bit of what all his donations have done for us so far," Jackie said, a nervous kind of excitement in her voice. "He never got to see down here before."

Dr. Crane stared him down, bits of curiosity breaking his blank expression. "I was under the impression that Mr. Wayne was a regular visitor to our humble asylum."

"I've only been allowed in a few areas," Bruce began, flashing his charming-host-smile at the doctor. "And I've been escorted every time; this place is like a maze."

"Even as your time as a patient?" Dr. Crane asked, curiosity growing steady in his pitch and sparking for the briefest of moments on his features before he returned to looking through the glass window of the observation bay, his expression flat once more. "But I suppose you wouldn't have come down here, you were only here for thirty-six hours, weren't you..."

Bruce filed away the thought that Dr. Crane had clearly looked through his old patient file for a later time. "Can I ask what exactly it is that you're observing, Doctor?"

"Drug tests."

“Um…” Jackie waited a beat, looking at the doctor curiously. "What kind, Pro-," she caught herself, "Doctor Crane?"

"For anxiety," the doctor responded, his eyes not leaving the patient lying on the bed. Bruce peeked over Jackie's shoulder, seeing the patient quake visibly in their restraints. The lights made the tears on her cheeks glisten, and Bruce felt a sharp pang of empathy. His fingers stiffened, wanting to clench into fists.

"Isn't that Claire? Why is she restrained?" Jackie asked, worry etching over her face. "I thought she was marinthrophobic."

"We don't discuss patients' histories with guests, child," Dr. Crane said with the patient air of an elementary school teacher. "I suppose the damage is done," he continued, a flash of distaste in his voice before turning to Jackie with a professional tone. "I can't study the effects properly otherwise; this will give me a window into seeing if the medication overtakes the fear of the restraints."

"Oh... Makes sense," Jackie agreed half-heartedly with a nod. "Well, um, I won't take up more of your time, Dr. Crane."

"Yes, it's best you don't keep Dr. Thompson waiting, Miss Lant. He’s quite a stickler for time-keeping. Nice meeting you, Mr. Wayne," the doctor said, extending his bony hand.

Bruce shook it, feeling a pathetic attempt at a business-squeeze on his knuckles. It wouldn't take much for Bruce to break his hand, and he felt the horrible rush of temptation to do just that. For John's safety or his own discomfort, Bruce wasn't sure. "Nice to meet you, too, doctor."

"If you decide you want to return to therapy, Mr. Wayne, I'd be delighted to give you a spot on my couch here," the doctor offered, a flicker of a smile on his face accompanying the rise in his tone. There was something about it all that made Bruce uncomfortable.

"I'll...make a note of that," Bruce replied awkwardly as the trainee began to lead the way down the hall. Once they were far away enough, he muttered, "Is he always like that?"

"Dr. Crane? Yeah, but you get used to it. I had his course my senior year at Gotham University, before he left - he's brilliant, but he doesn't exactly open up to other people a lot. I figured it's his upbringing." Jackie smiled innocently up at him. "The formative years usually play a lot into your psyche."

Bruce decided not to say anything else to that. He didn’t want to think about exactly what his youth did to his mental state.

They stopped in front of a door with a paper sign saying ‘SUPERINTENDENT DR. THOMPSON’ in large font. "Well, here you are, Mr. Wayne. I'm sure Dr. Thompson will escort you back downstairs."

"Thanks, Jackie," Bruce smiled as the young woman fluttered her lashes once and brushed past him, the reddish-orange of her short curly hair the only colorful thing in the hall.

Dr. Thompson may have been a practicing psychiatrist, but there was no mistaking the businessman underneath, springing to the surface when he looked up from his screen. You didn't get to run an asylum without being both.

"Mr. Wayne! How nice to see you again." It was difficult to pinpoint his age exactly, but he must have been twice the age of Bruce at least.

"Doctor Thompson," Bruce said as he returned the polite handshake. "You look well."

"I don't exactly feel like it, Mr. Wayne, but thank you. I can't say I'm surprised to see you, but I am surprised that it's been a while since you've come purely to check up on your contributions."

Bruce fought down the blush wanting to creep up his face. He'd been coming every week, but every time he split his time seeing John and doing a casual check of the various new improvements, and meeting a few members of the board. His generous contributions on behalf of Wayne Enterprise made them all sit up and give him a bit of a word in here and there, but his father's abhorrent past made them keep a close eye on him. "Well, Wayne Enterprise is a pretty harsh mistress - I have to split my time carefully these days, regardless of what I want."

Dr. Thompson searched him for the quickest moment, but an understanding smile played on his face. "Yes, it's like juggling two jobs, isn't it? Business and friendships - both hard to maintain, especially together."

Bruce was grateful he no longer had the mantle of Batman to uphold, too. It made agreeing with Dr. Thompson a lot easier.

"So, you've seen the new additions to the medical bay and the basement restoration - how about I show you some of the new surveillance equipment we're installing?"

"I'd love to."

"Great, we'll talk on the way." Dr. Thompson gently steered Bruce out the door.

Bruce let his mind run through different questions to ask. Dr. Crane, the medical testing, Jackie Lant...

"So, do you always stay so close to the medical testing facility?" Dr. Thompson raised an eyebrow at him. "Miss Lant showed me on the way. I could've sworn your office wasn't in this part of the building last time."

"This is just temporary; my real office was infiltrated last week," Dr. Thompson's smile turned into a serious line. "Nothing taken, thankfully, but they seemed to have left in a hurry."

"Any idea what they were looking for?"

"Files, but there was no prints on the open cabinet and the camera in the hall was conveniently turned away from the door the night we had a new guard on duty."

Someone who knew the inner workings of Arkham, then. Security and staff were high on that suspect list. And John, a nagging voice at the back of his head said. But that would've been very difficult for John to pull off, considering he was kept a firm watch on since the Joker incident. "What were they, patient files or something? I thought those would've been kept in their own room, with how old this place is," Bruce said with a practiced look of concern.

"They are," the doctor answered, glancing at him. "They were facility records. Finances and the like. They were shuffled to the patient records and my computer was securely transferred down here while we're reconfiguring the security measures upstairs. The new cameras are going live tomorrow evening."

"Good to know it's sooner rather than later," Bruce replied, offering a kind smile as they continued to the monitoring station two floors below.

Whether he needed it for later or not, Bruce would remember that.

Bruce clung to the steering wheel as he glared out the traffic in front of him.

Once again, he was prevented from seeing John. The receptionist at the front said there was some new medication he was being put on at that hour that would make him too drowsy to hold any kind of conversation until he got used to it. The orderly hadn't known the name of the new drug, just got passed a note saying as much that morning.

Something was definitely wrong. He didn't care if it was just an excuse to punish John for the phone call or anything else he might have done; not seeing him for almost three weeks except for a chance encounter in the hall wasn't right.

He knew he could argue with himself all day about how it might have just been coincidence, might have just been him almost desperately wanting to see John again and getting angry about being denied it. He knew Alfred would say as much.

But Alfred wasn't here. He hadn't heard John asking for help. Hadn't met the unnerving Dr. Crane for himself.

He had to find out who Art was.

Bruce breathed deep. He couldn't go back and look through the filing cabinet himself, it was too risky, mask or no mask.

He willed himself to calm down. He had to be rational.

Traffic wasn't going to be moving very fast for very long… He had things he needed to learn.

Bruce dialed Tiffany.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Tiffany," he started, quieter than he thought he would be. "You got a minute?"

"...you need a favor?"

"Well, yeah - I mean, if that's okay."

"You didn't break one of my toys, did you?"

Bruce smiled slightly. Tiffany was still Lucious' daughter. "No, don't worry, it's not a repair I need."

"Well, I figured, but... Just checking. So, what’s up?"

"I need you to find a name for me. Think you can break into Arkham's database?"

"...into Arkham?" He practically heard her narrowing her eyes. "Why?"

"I'm just checking up something." He was starting to feel flustered. "For a friend," he added.

"A friend, huh?" Bruce felt the doubt in her voice. He was sure she knew exactly which friend he was referring to, and he was sure she was judging him. "Alright. Which names?"

"A Dr. Jonathan Crane, no 'h', and any patient named Art or Arthur."

"I'm guessing the doctor isn't a patient?"

"No, practicing at Arkham."

"Right. It could take a while. I'm guessing you called me because you didn't want to boot up your old gear?"

Bruce swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. "Yeah."

"...I'll call you when I find something. About an hour?"

"Sure, fine. Thanks, Tiffany. I mean it."

"Don't thank me yet, Bruce. I still need to find you something," she added lightly.

Bruce cursed Gotham's twisting, crowded roads as he drove the rest of the way with the classical station on loud, trying to drown himself in the orchestra filling his ears as he tried not to think about how much easier this entire thing would be if he could just put on the batsuit.

The mansion felt huge and empty when Bruce finally walked in.

In truth, it always felt that way. Too big, too open, too quiet. It would be too long before Alfred's next Skype call, and longer until Alfred decided to take a break from his long and well-deserved vacation.

The moment Bruce had started driving John to the bridge, he entertained the thought of bringing him here. To his house, to the Batcave, to show everything he had to the one person who would actually see everything. He had no doubt John would know exactly what was Bruce's and what wasn't.

Even after everything that happened, Bruce liked the idea of him here, despite the bittersweet flavor it seemed to leave. Taking up space, breaking the silence, sneaking in everywhere he could get, potentially breaking something expensive by accident that Alfred would later mutter about but Bruce would secretly smile at.

Heirlooms were one thing, photos another, but the expensive furniture and modern art Bruce only kept for show - for the billionaire playboy with too much money and time on his hands - he always wanted to treat like the garbage it was.

He turned on the billiard room's fire and sank into the armchair, watching the flames dance as he tried to breathe. It was so hard to think about anything else but the case.

What did he even suspect Dr. Crane of doing? Treating his patients with unusual and unkind methods? Giving off a creepy vibe?

All he had was John's word that something was wrong. John's word and Bruce's gut.

Just how much faith did he want to put into both?

The synthesized jingle of his phone buzzing away almost jolted him out of his thoughts.

"Tiffany?"

"Bruce, I've found something. Are you sitting down?" Without waiting to hear his response, she continued. "What do you want to hear first:  Crane, or Arthur?"

"Crane."

"Right," she continued, sounding a bit more normal, "Well, Dr. Crane has been working in Arkham for a little over a year, has a relatively normal file, worked at Gotham U. for years - but his proclaimed area of expertise is a little weird."

"Fear?"

"...did you look him up already?"

"He's written three papers on the subject alone. All open to the public."

"Yeah, well, they're all listed on his references. They all as creepy as they sound? The Working Through Grief article he has sounds pretty normal."

"Fear is unnatural, fear is a byproduct of primitive impulse, fear is conquered best with constant exposure - pretty much all like that. I haven't read the Working Through Grief one yet."

"Yikes, glad I don't have to actually read those. Don't know how I'd sleep..." Bruce felt a smile lift a bit at her tone. "He was basically on the wait list until Arkham gave in and hired him. Seemed the last five years shifted out a few doctors from there and he wasn't chosen until a year ago. The last two seemed to just drop off the face of the Earth."

Probably at the bottom of the Gotham River, if not buried in concrete somewhere. "Missing persons?"

"You got it. Both of them specialized in the sort of...research section, I guess?"

Bruce could see the terrified woman on the table. See Dr. Crane staring at her through the window with a blank face, like it was just something that happened every day. "Medicinal testing wing. I've seen it."

"You've seen it? How?"

"I went to check up on what my contributions were going to, got a bit of a tour - what about Arthur?"

"Right:  I found two Arthurs, one's a guard on morning duty, the other a patient. Or...was a patient, actually. Arthur Mooney passed away almost three weeks ago."

"How?"

"Suicide's what's listed, but I couldn't find the details. Guy had a whole list of problems on here. I think it's safe to say he was a total whacko."

Bruce set his jaw, half a mind to tell Tiffany that that sort of casual dismissal of mental issues was as unhealthy as it was disrespectful, but he didn't have the energy to go through a full argument like that. He allowed a sigh through his nostrils instead. "Anything on the guard?"

"Arthur West; nothing special. Forty-four, average height, decent references, no misbehavior on record."

"What floor does he frequent?"

"Uh, I don't think that kind of thing is set in stone, but I'm pretty sure it's the first floor, judging by the crude map I got. Why?"

First floor was for the quieter, better-behaved patients, as well as a slightly larger nurse's station. Despite him going along quietly and being on fairly good behavior, John was stationed on the fifth. "I wanted to see if the two ever came into contact with one another. If the guard doesn't circulate regularly, it's a pretty slim chance. What floor was the patient stationed on?"

"...five. And you'll never guess who the last doctor on his list is."

A patient suicide on the same floor as John. A patient of Crane's.

Bruce pictured the medical testing room, with John strapped inside, and Crane watching through the window.

He felt like he wanted to throw up and hit something at the same time. He breathed deep, trying to calm his racing heart and force the image away.

"Bruce?"

"Tiffany...thank you. Good work."

"...Bruce," she started hesitantly, "What are you going to do?"

He wasn't sure yet. It would be easy - so, so easy - to put on his old suit and sneak into Arkham, do a search before making Crane talk.

Or, he could try to find the coroner's report on Art. Go back to Arkham like nothing happened, force his way into talking with John, see if he knew anything else.

"Tiffany, can you find what exactly it is that Dr. Crane is using on his patients? What he's prescribing them?"

"Probably, but it'll take a bit to get back in. It's too risky to stay on the phone and search at the same time, even if the line's secure."

"Great. If you happen to find the coroner's report on Mooney -"

"I'll send it your way, too, Bruce. I'm guessing you're doing this the more...Wayne sort of way?"

"I hung up the suit, Tiff'. I'm not taking it back out unless I know I need to."

"...your call. I'll send you stuff when I get it."

"Thanks, Tiffany."

"I'm doing this for you, you know," she interjected. "Not him."

Bruce felt his heart sink. He knew it, but he didn't want to hear it. "You know I appreciate it, Tiff'."

"Bye, Bruce."

The call ended with a beep, and Bruce sat there staring at the colorful stripes that made up his lock-screen, thinking too much about everything.

[sanguinesprout]

Therapy/Counselling Diary #6 (more frustrations, tribulations and a tiny speck of sunshine)

I don’t know how I’m feeling rn, I just wanna climb into bed and stay there forever. I feel kind of conflicted and overwhelmed, hopeless but a smidgen hopeful at the same time but as always everything is overpowered by doubtfulness and hesitance and fear. I’m spiralling quite a lot, I want to calm down and figure things out rationally but my mind is racing ahead with frustration and the irrational. 

Yesterday’s counselling appointment felt quite different to the others, it was more blunt, filled with harsh truths and realities, eye opening but upsetting. To put it simply, it was a tough lesson and the words hurt and I cried. I don’t mean there was no encouragement or empathy present, it just felt like there was much less of it this time. The counsellor was probably getting impatient because I’m not trying hard enough, needed to light a fire under my ass kind of feeling.

Well, I’m past halfway in the number of sessions I’m allowed, I haven’t been able to move forward as much as she wanted and planned which is probably where the sort of urgency to do things is kicking in. There’s a lot more waiting on trying to get financial help than both of us expected. I mean I did apply for it and I enquired about it, I didn’t just ignore it, so it’s better than the latter right?

I keep wondering if counselling was the right choice for me, like the right kind of guidance because I feel like a lot of my deeper problems are not being considered into why I am struggling or that there’s not anything to help alleviate them. I’m not sure what I’m trying to say, or am I..? It’s not the exact thing I wanted, it fills only a small piece of a big complex puzzle, but beggars can’t be choosers :c I know the focus has to be narrowed down, everything is brief because time is short. I don’t want to have bad feelings about it, I don’t want to be ungrateful or butthurt either, it just feels like it’s not enough or it’s missing a step, but I also know that outside help can only do so much, everything is on me to change and improve from the inside. I feel so conflicted.

I know I need to stop moping, stop feeling sorry for myself, stop trying to make excuses and pin blame on things and people around me for my shortcomings and lack of action. It’s just when you spent such a long part of your life having these feelings and being a certain way, it’s hard to just up and go, hard to break the cycle and move on. To try and bring back control into your life when you felt you’ve never had it or lost it so long ago, it feels like you’re a newborn deer with starry eyes stumbling around on unsteady legs trying to get uphill, with the hill being a learning curve that’s actually a tall and seemingly impassible vertical wall.

I keep thinking of all these ‘I’m’ phrases. ‘I’m worthless, I’m useless, I’m ungrateful, I’m such a waste of space’ as afterthoughts to my moments of successful avoidance and it’s throwing me into such a hopeless mood where only grey clouds hang and no light can filter through. If my thoughts were like a message board, all the comments would be insults like these and unhelpful pro life hack troll comments plus the typical kys x 1000 .__.

C’mon me, don’t be so hard on yourself, it isn’t helping, there is hope... or is there..? Yes, there is but it’s just hard to see clearly right now. I’m feeling quite lost again, I need to try and find my way through the fog, I can do it, c’mon, don’t worry so much, you can do it!

I think I’m feeling a little better after getting a little of my frustration out, I’ll try and recall how yesterday went from beginning to end in simple form, I especially wanted to get things down as soon as possible so I don’t keep having to think back so hard and end up muddling stuff up. My memories are already a blur though and I feel like I've already begun to try repress a lot of it, but some good things were also said and some kind of nice things happened after so I’ve got to get to those too. You know, bring back some sun into this grey rainy spell, maybe even make a rainbow somehow :>

Okay, I got to the appointment just on time and sat for maybe 2 mins max, she came and collected me and I went for a quick bathroom trip because the weather that day was bad and I felt a mess. She asked for my weekly depression/anxiety self assessment sheet and I gave it to her and she looked over at it briefly. I think there might have been something small before this but I forgot, but w/e lol.

She asked (rhetorically?) if there was any improvement in the sheets/scores and pointed at one of the scores and asked me ‘what’s this?’. She was pointing to my score of 1 (some of the days) for the statement ‘Thinking you'd be better off dead or hurting yourself in some way?’. She’s never asked me about any of my scores on the previous ones, I feel like maybe she was offended some how that I hadn’t improved under her guidance or that maybe my scores were particularly bad that week idk I shouldn’t assume but she seemed the tiniest bit aghast anyways. 

The thing is though, the scoring sheet is intended for every two weeks but I’ve been doing them for every one week so they probably come across as a stronger representation idk? I’m sure I scored 1 for most other times on that same statement too (or did the lowest 0 score but only because I was trying to seem hopeful and not idk shock-worthy? Bad and inaccurate I know). Well let me just say it was hella awk and that was even after I got in a taxi ride with a driver that didn’t speak english and struggled through that the same morning, the awkward feels just keep rising.

Anyways, back to what I was saying, or well, not saying. She asked me what that score was, and that gave me this vibe that she was idk disgusted or like I said offended... I mean I think she asked why I put that after too but I couldn’t find the words to answer. It’s kind of sensitive topic (especially for me who usually withholds and can’t express feelings that well) and somehow I thought it would be kind of obvious thing, like something that didn’t need to be questioned... .__. 

I mentioned I had depression on the first session, she knows I’m struggling in general and last week was particularly stressful for me with the pressure to do stuff and I didn’t want to bring it up as the reason at the time. Maybe she forgot or got me mixed up with someone else, she probably sees so many people a week and stuff.

It just felt weird and I was kind of confused, I was searching my mind for an appropriate answer but was still just so taken aback that I just blanked. I ended up saying something like ‘you know, when you feel kind of hopeless...’ and kind of cringed inwardly. But then I think she went into a sort of a reassuring and positive sort of pep talk, telling me that I was doing good and all that stuff, it made me feel better for that moment, though I still feel a bit idk traumatised lol... ;; Because I always worry about doing things right, being seen as weird, having that being in school and getting reprimanded feeling it just freaked me out. 

Oh... oh my god, that just reminded me of something... A lot of past experiences influence our current feelings and beliefs right? I noticed I keep mentioning about being told off and I keep wondering why it affects me so much, makes me afraid even now and I remembered in school when I was very young there were times I was told off and felt wronged and it hurt, I was a good kid and I always tried my best but I guess it wasn’t enough sometimes. Those things I was scolded for seemed irrational and unfair and I’ll bet a lot of them actually were, but I was just a kid, I just take it and believe that I deserved it, but maybe it was just me, taking things to heart a little too much too.

I’m so scared of being told off by my parents, by anyone really, just the prospect of it happening alone is enough to make me shrink away into the floor. Remembering the faces and tones of voices of those particular teachers, it scares me and makes me feel so upset, they were mean and strict and I feel there was a hint of some discrimination somewhere but no one is obligated to be nice to me anyways I guess... Idk I’m side tracking again, being over dramatic maybe but those snippets of memories that just came up from their hiding place right in the depths of my mind, to stay with me that long, it’s painful recalling them again. The beliefs I hold from then, they are one and the same as the ones still latched on to me today, probably in an evolved form and weighing me down even more. 

Something that’s been bothering me, am I always playing the victim? Am I actually always in the wrong? Do I really blame others that much? Is there actually no reason to feel any of the things I do? Is everything actually my own fault? These just go on to repeat that cycle of worthlessness and confusion. I don’t even know, the more I think about things, the greater the self-loathing becomes. It’s not healthy, I need to stop it. Wow idek what I just wrote in the past few paragraphs @^@”

Um so, my memory is kinda crappy after the bit about the paper. I remember I had some homework from last time which I struggled really badly with even though it probably wasn’t something hard, but idk I just have a hard time doing any type of task cause I get that foggy head pain and can’t concentrate or retain information and ugh why can’t I function like normal..?? ;^; I quickly scrawled down the stuff the morning of the app but well... I waited for her to ask for it but she never did, I was thinking, I should take it out and give it to her. But I avoided doing so... and later I thought again I should give it, but I didn’t, or well I was too preoccupied with what was going down then. I’ll make sure to mention and give it in next time... I’m scared she’ll be annoyed, or disappointed, tell me off etc etc. but better late than never I guess. Maybe the session would have went differently if I did, maybe we could have focused on that instead, ack it’s my own fault >^<

We talked about what I did last week in terms of going out, communicating and practicing phone orders. Welp, I don’t think I went anywhere other than shopping the same day of the last appointment so there was nothing to discuss there. As for the phone order thing... I managed to do it... but only once. I panicked and stumbled over my words and it deterred me from trying again just like I thought it would. But my mum and sis gave me some helpful tips which I can use next time if I can pluck up the courage to.

I actually did it, even it was only once, which was something. But I did it more because I didn’t want to disappoint the counsellor, because she already wanted me to do it the prior week and I didn’t, so it was done out of a greater fear so to say... I mean, I did do it a little for myself too and for my parents, who were kind of impressed I tried at least. I thought maybe at least me trying, even if only once would be something but she said that really she would have expected me to do much more, once wasn’t enough, but at least I did it. I felt real bad, I’m so cowardly and she is expecting me to have tried doing it everyday lots of times by next week but I’ve already avoided trying for almost two days already :<

I also made it sound like I was making a bunch of excuses as to why I don’t go out that much, I said some inaccurate things and I feel bad about it. She said I should go out more, follow where my sis and parents go and try to immerse myself properly in what I’m doing, as I mentioned being around others makes me anxious and I will often leave what I’m doing without properly looking or buying what I wanted. Eg. if I’m looking at clothes and someone stands next to me looking, I’ll move so they can look or hurry up or cut short my own perusing then move. She said to not mind them, that I was there first and should take my time. I move out of politeness and because often when I want to look at stuff and someone else is there for a long long time or is just blocking the way it kind of irks me (and when I look at things I am really slow I guess), so I wouldn’t want other people to feel that way idk I suck I know. I’ll try follow my parents this weekend or go somewhere with my sis or something. 

She also went over my sort of plan to get a job and was telling me to work under my parents and gain experience from home (work is at home) so I can write it on my CV. I already knew of this but I keep thinking my parents are so set on doing things themselves and their way, that I’ll be in the way, do things wrong, get told off etc. Maybe it’s irrational to think this, no, it certainly is, but I can’t help thinking this way. I told her that I’ve tried asking them to teach me suff before but they were unwilling and she told me not to pin the blame on them. She said I needed to push to do things and asked me ‘what do new workers(of any profession in general) usually do?’ and I answered something like ‘watch’, watching and learning, shadowing. She’s right, I should do that, it’s just my aforementioned fears especially the getting in the way part that’s getting in the way.

Wait, I lie, there’s much more than that. There’s my extreme self-consciousness which makes it difficult for me to be anyone’s view let alone customers (especially the regulars that sometimes ask how mum’s daughters are doing, to which she mostly talks about my sis because well, I got nothing). I didn’t say this to her though... Also my fear of someone I know coming and seeing me, asking how I’ve been, what I’m doing etc... Seriously if I didn’t have such an ugly mug etc. I would be doing much better or maybe I wouldn’t be this way at all... :c

So uh, I have to do some of that experience gathering and skill learning, yeah it’s necessary, it’s a good opportunity and it’s beneficial. The pressure to do things so quickly and so much at a time (for me) is just so overwhelming. 

Stuff got kinda not so great from here...or maybe I got the order of things mixed up but oh well....She said she felt frustrated for me so she couldn’t imagine what it must be like for me. She said that I have to try and do much more, that it’s for me and my life and it won’t affect her at all whether I do things or not and that she has many other people that she needs to see and that’s her job, if I don’t do things then there’s no point of me coming to sessions and stuff like that. She said something vaguely like ‘you’re [age] years old, you should be able to/can do all these things ...[something something] it’s almost like you’re a baby’ this isn’t actually what she said but I remember her saying my age and the word baby because these are things I think about all the time about myself.

There was some other sort of raw truth telling and I can’t remember all of it but it just really got to me and the tone and the words kind of cut me deep and I started crying or well my eyes started leaking and I really really didn’t want them to... ;^; As I expected she is unfazed by it, probably has seen it a million times from others, and I was trying really hard to ignore the water in my eyes too and continue listening to her, but in the back of my mind I was wishing I could just have a moment, maybe even a tiny bit of reassurance or sympathy. I don’t mean to make her sound like a heartless robot and she probably did say some reassuring things I don’t remember properly, but at that time it just felt so bad like... like you know all the stress from the past weeks and just my whole life busted out and I felt like I didn’t matter or something like that.

Oh, I remember one of the things she also talked about/asked was what would I do (in terms of living and looking after myself) if my parents died. She asked or talked about this in one of the earlier sessions but that was if they died like right now, and this time I think she was saying about you know, like people only live so long kind of thing... like the thing about the depression bit earlier, this is a topic I really don’t like, the way it comes out is so blunt and just throws me off so much. I contemplated what to say in return and was really tempted to say ‘die’ but I know that would not be a good idea but I couldn’t think of much else, I said ‘nothing’ instead and she was I guess taken aback (in a bad way, like ‘what do you mean nothing? You can’t just do nothing’).

I blanked so hard to find the answer because the truth is I don’t know what I’d do. She said I couldn’t rely on my sis to look after me forever and that’s true and I already know it. I guess this is just a way to help me put my future in perspective maybe, to get me to take more action now so I would be more prepared to take care of myself then and in general. It still stung a lot though.

Also there was some talk of what my plans are to get to what I want to do and I can’t remember exactly what sparked the next small bit of conversation, but I was talking about how I have some illness that prevents me from wanting to go out/work because I get sick easily in those environments and she told me how she has a friend that has similar stuff and she doesn’t let this get in the way of her doing stuff, that she still goes out and works and lives and while that’s true and very useful to know it kind of felt idk... I didn’t want to sound like I was bringing up excuses, I just wanted to let her know I have other troubles I needed sorting in addition to the ones she knows.

Then I can’t remember how but it lead to me talking about maybe going to the doctor for medication to help with ADD/Depression/anxiety (which I had been avoiding) so that I’d be able to think clearer and do things more quickly in addition to her help but she just said that was something pointless in a way, that medication isn’t a miracle cure to my problems and kept emphasising ‘this is CBT, it’s all about behaviour’ ?^? But the thing is, I wasn’t saying that it was a miracle cure and her disregard for the fact that it could maybe help, it kind of idk... it made me feel frustrated and maybe some time around here is when I cried or maybe I was already crying idk but my voice was weak and I didn’t want to debate it anymore. 

The thing is though, behavioural stuff is her specialism and not medicine and I understand that but why so adamant or against it?  @^@ It kind of feels like when I asked her about whether a diagnosis would be helpful that other time and the answer was pretty much nope. I know medication isn’t healthy and isn’t ideal, and I know it can be unhelpful in terms of side effects, but I was referring more to ADD medication which I read positive things about (but I guess I need to research more). If I could fix things without medication, that’s the obvious choice anyone would choose, but some things are proven to be chemically related and idk why I’m continuing to talk about it... tbh I already take medication every day for my other physical blah but even I feel iffy about taking it for mental related things.

I just felt kind of miffed and upset and actually kind of hopeless by the end of the session and idk it didn’t end with me feeling super motivated like the last few. Tbh on a lot of the other sessions, I just kept thinking I want to go home, but none as much as this one. I kind of almost wanted to just up an cancel the rest of the sessions, but I think I can stick through it, there’s only 4 more, who knows what could happen, what I could maybe achieve and leave with. Or even if there is nothing much, at least I tried, I can learn to be stronger from this experience alone. I have been mulling over a lot of things and yes, there was some useful things and I do see where she is coming from on a lot of things too, it’s just the pressure to do stuff is killing me because my fears are still there and grow even stronger when I’m at home. To put myself in her perspective though, it must be like flogging a dead horse a lot of the time, I feel bad she has to deal with me.

Anyways, after the session I went to the toilet again and tried to put come cold water soaked tissue on my face and eyes to make it less red and calm down. Then after my sis was supposed to come and go run some errands and shop with me like usual but she was running a bit late so she told me to browse around. I was feeling a little scared, but I remembered I used to be okay doing this and agreed to do so. I went to a stationery store and browsed it at my leisure, was a little anxious and had to wait at the till for ages for someone to get there but it was kind of nice, I felt a little proud of myself for going and I did buy some pens I wanted. 

After that I just wandered around outside while waiting for my sis to come over and used the opportunity to take some photos of the things in the area, the weather wasn’t great but it gave me a reason to pull up my hood and have the courage to go around. I wish I could be brave enough to do this without having to feel like I need anonymity and to actually do it properly without rushing and thinking people might be looking and judging, but anyways it was something I wanted to do for a long time and I did it a little bit! I hope I can use this as motivation to go out more and improve my skills ^^

I also went to some other shops, then the supermarket and I asked the store worker about the stock of an item so that’s something! The rest of the day I just kind of sat around thinking about things again. I wanted to go back and do something nice like the posting art stuff but I’m still hesitating and also now I keep thinking that those sorts of things are not important and that I should be focusing on the more serious stuff like the job thing. Other people have jobs and they can afford to do nice things on the side because they have the important things sorted out and prioritised well, I don’t have a job so I shouldn’t be doing nice or meaningless things, I need to be serious... is the kind of thought train I have. It’s true, but I... I don’t know...

Anyways, I used up a whole day to write this post pretty much. It was really difficult and much much weirder but it was useful to get the thoughts out and down which is good. I feel I always keep trying to soften and justify things I say still, I still fear being recognised and perceived as bad and all that terrible jazz. Maybe I’ll get over it someday.

I want to end the post positively like I always do, but I’m struggling a little on this one. It’s always the overthinking, the irrational and the inaction and I’m getting worried about next week because time flies. What do I need to do to just get over the fears...? T^T I really wish there was some magic cure all medicine.

I guess only thinking the logical or not thinking at all and actually challenging the fears is the only way. Do I think I can do it? I might not be able to completely dispel the thoughts but I think trying a little more shouldn’t hurt too much. I gotta ingrain it into my brain some more, that all that matters is I tried, it doesn’t have to be perfect, it’ll get better and easier with practice, it’ll be okay.

Baby steps and more determination is the way to go. I can do it, I can do it, I can do it! Even if not straight away, I’ll get on track and soon be chugging full speed. Believe in myself, be proud of myself and try my best, I keep forgetting. Take care of myself too.

I actually wrote a list of things I want to do, my dreams or a bucket list as such in my drafts, I want to be able to fulfil them and cross them off with a smile. To accomplish this, I just need to do them. More doing, less moping! It’s my life, I should be able to do all the things I want to do and be the person I want to be.

I gotta try harder, just persevere and do and that’s all there is to it, c’mon I can do this, I can do all these things someday or even today! Don’t let the little bumps on your journey throw you off, don’t let other’s words bring you down, keep fighting, keep going, it’ll be worth it! You can do it!! ^^

I think maybe I’ll go try post something for reals now on my other acc somewhere and then I’ll practice some phone order-y stuff! It won’t be so hard after taking the first few steps silly me, go go! C:

Have a wonderful evening and keep going, you can do it!

[assbuttyourlife]

When We Were Young - Chapter Two

Pairing : Misha/OFC

Warnings : Fire, trauma, PTSD, family members’ death (including child), therapy, flashbacks (not in every chapter), cheating. Long fic. Angst, fluff and smut will come later in the story.

Words : 3478

Summary : After her grandmother's funeral, Lily must return to the place she lived in when she was young and has to confront the ghosts of her past. She will run into an old friend that she thought was lost forever.

Note : Another flashback in this chapter, to explain what really happened in 1990. I don't remember when or where, but Misha did indeed talk about that at a convention. He didn't give any specific details, but it definitely happened, just not the way I wrote it. (obviously!)

This chapter was beta’d by @dixseptdixhuit

CHAPTER 2 – FIRE

Lily woke up quite disturbed the next morning. She hadn’t slept that much, and the few rest she managed to have was full of nightmares.

Ugh, get up Lily, you can do this, it’s Friday!

She went to the kitchen, made some coffee and sat in her comfy sofa with her laptop to check her emails and Facebook. She did that every morning because she needed time to wake up slowly, and there was nothing else she could do without caffeine in her body. She was the grumpy type of person in the morning, and if you dared messing with her before coffee, she would probably eat you alive.

When she opened her emails, she wasn’t surprised to find a lot of condolences and people sending her their best wishes, mostly coworkers, neighbors or friends. She would eventually have to answer to all of them… But not today.

Same on her Facebook: friends from Nice, Katie’s family, some old high school and college mates all sending compassionate messages and wishes. It actually made her feel a little better to read all of these nice words from people she hadn’t seen for a long time.

When it was done and she was pumped up with caffeine, she went to her bedroom to get dressed. She opened her closet and sighed heavily. When her boss and friend David told her to stay home the whole week after her grandmother passed, she insisted on working today because she didn’t want to stay at home crying, remembering good times and feeling sorry for herself, but she was now regretting her decision because she would have to deal with Hayley, a.k.a. the slut who was in her bed yesterday right after the funeral, riding her boyfriend and screaming for more at the top of her lungs.

Ugh, how the hell am I going to deal with her?

She took a deep breath before picking her clothes. She opted for a simple white strap dress with gold sandals. Simple but sexy; she had to prove she was fine and ready to move on, and she wanted to prove Hayley her point: she was older, yes, but still not too old to look good enough to catch men’s eyes.

She will regret being born.

But then Lily looked at herself in the mirror and all she saw were dark circles, tiny wrinkles, and her long dark red hair in a huge mess. She definitely had to take the time to apply make-up… lots of make-up.

She’s twenty-nine and you’re thirty-eight, what did you expect?

She put on some make-up, tied her hair in a long wavy ponytail, put a black leather jacket to hide the ugly scar on her back that she hated, took her case and stepped out of her apartment. She had one more mission before leaving for work, and not the least: going to Katie’s and check if she was on time. She climbed the few stairs separating her from Katie’s floor and knocked on her door, praying that she would at least be awake.

Katie opened the door. Thank God she’s up!

“Hey Kat! I’m really proud of you, you’re actually up and…almost dressed.” Lily gave a quick hug to her friend who was standing half asleep in front of her. She pushed the door and entered fast.

“Hey.” Katie answered unamused.

“Come on, sleepy head, we have to go! You have exactly eight minutes to be fully ready, and that also means you won't have time to eat, so brace yourself, we'll get something on the way. You better hurry or the guys will be pissed!”

“Hhhmmffffff…” was all Lily heard for an answer.

After a long and painful time to get ready, the two women were finally in Lily’s car driving to work.

They both worked at the Seattle Symphony as professional musicians: Lily in the first violin section and Katie played the flute. Music was an endless passion for Lily, and as far as she could remember, she always played an instrument. She started studying piano when she was three, and violin when she turned seven.

It was also how she met Katie; back in France, when Dr Dorville had asked her what she liked to do outside of school, Lily answered she loved playing music, so the doctor suggested she played in Nice's orchestra, and she met Katie, who had already been playing there for two years. Music was like a second therapy; Lily could express her emotions through her instrument, and she practiced so hard, trying to keep her mind out of her dark past, that she became a very talented and perfectionist musician.

When Lily wanted to go back to America years later at the age of twenty-eight, she couldn't leave without Katie, who had become like her sister, and was absolutely thrilled to go with her to live “the American Dream” as she liked to call it. They both had no difficulty impressing the conductor and persuading him to hire them both.

They miraculously arrived at work on time, and Lily tried her best not to cross Hayley's path, but it was impossible since she played cello, which meant she was positioned in the section right in front of her.

Of course... Cello... I should've guessed she loves spreading her legs!

Fortunately, the day went by pretty normal and eventless, and when they went back home, it was time for them to start packing, because Lily had to go spend the weekend in Northfield, where she grew up, to take care of her grandmother's last will. Of course, Katie had insisted to go with her; there was no way she could face that alone, and she also admitted that she was pretty curious to finally see where Lily had spent her childhood.

Katie was quick to pack, and when she came to Lily's apartment to check if she was ready to leave for the airport, she found her friend on her knees, in front of her closet, crying over her suitcase with piles of clothes everywhere in the room.

“Lily? What's wrong?”

When Lily looked up at her friend, Katie's heart broke a little. She was a mess, mascara smeared under her eyes, sniffing through her tears.

“I can't do it, Katie,” she sobbed.

Katie knelt next to her and took her hand. “Do what? Packing? Yeah I can see that!”

“No! Going back there! I'm so scared...”

It had been more than twenty years and she never went back. Not once. Running away and ignoring her pain was easier than facing her demons. Weak and cowardly, yes, but much easier.

The house she once shared with her mom and her brother was probably still there, she didn't even know in what shape it was, if it burnt completely or not, but she always refused to go back and face the ghosts of her past. The domain was her grandmother's property, along with her grandparents' house in Litchfield. Now that they were all gone, it was Lily's legacy, so she had to take care of it. She owed that to her family, especially to her grandfather who had worked too hard for all of this to be left behind. She had to honor their memories or she wouldn't be able to look at herself in a mirror for the rest of her life. But what was she supposed to do? Sell it? It kinda didn't feel right, but what else could she do?

“I'll be with you. I won't leave your side, I promise. It will be fine, Lily, don't worry. I know it must be hard for you but you'll probably feel a ton better after all. And it will certainly help you moving on for good and be over with it once and for all.”

“Yeah... I hope you're right. Thanks, Katie, I'm sorry I overreacted.” Lily wiped her face before giving Katie a hug.

“Sure. It's normal, you had a hard week. Oh, and you know what I just noticed? You, my dear, are the one who's late now, and I'm not.” Katie proudly said, grinning.

Lily had to giggle to that and nodded to her friend. She really had to hurry or they would miss their flight.

“Who knew that could happen?... Alright, I'll hurry.”

Katie nodded with a smile and pushed her large black glasses up her nose before helping her friend.

When everything was finally in order, David drove them to the airport, and with lots of doubts and fears, Lily and Katie were flying to Connecticut. Lily was about to make a twenty-two years step back in her past, and she was utterly terrified.

She closed her eyes and thought about the last time she was there. She didn't think she would come back one day; she wished her time in France and the therapy had healed everything, but she obviously was wrong.

**************************************

August 1990. Nice – France

“So, Lily... How have you been since our last session?” Dr Dorville sat behind her desk, crossing her legs.

“I've known worse,” Lily answered honestly. A week had passed since her last session. She had tons of things to do before she could start her senior high school year in Nice, plus she had to learn at least enough french to not look like a total idiot in front of her future classmates and teachers, so her mind was too busy to think about something else.

“I'm sure you have. So... Let's not waste any time. I told you we would dig deeper today, and that's exactly what we're about to do.” She took her note pad and clicked her pen open.

Uh oh...

“I would like to talk about the recent events that led you and your grandmother to move here,” she stated with determination in her voice.

“You mean the fire?”

“Yes... Among other things. Do you feel you can tell me what happened that night? I think it's something you need to get off your chest now because it was traumatic, and as long as we avoid the subject, you won't be able to make any progress in your healing process.”

Traumatic? No kidding.

Lily sighed and closed her eyes. She didn't know if she was ready for this.

“I... I can try.” It was almost a whisper.

“Alright. If you feel like it's too much for you, just tell me and we'll stop.”

“Okay... I don't even know where to start though. Some parts are a little blurry too.”

“It's okay, I'll help you. It is normal if you can't recall everything in details. Do you remember the date it happened?”

Lily braced herself and answered “June 29th?” She wasn't even sure about the date, so it came out more as a question.

“It was actually June 30th already, but very early in the morning, it was still night time.” Dr Dorville corrected nicely.

“Oh. Right. It makes sense.” She shrugged.

“So you were sleeping in your room, right?”

“Yes. Something woke me up.” Lily was very hesitant. It was so strange to talk about that with her. She knew she could trust her therapist and Dr Dorville wasn't so bad really, but she sort of felt naked in front of her and that wasn't the best sensation.

“What was it?” she encouraged.

“Well... Misha woke me up, actually.” Silence fell in the room and Dr Dorville looked up from her notes and tilted her head.

“Misha? The son of your mom's friend?”

“Yes, umm... We both fell asleep in my room. I suppose he heard something, or it was the smell, I don't know, and then he realized something was wrong and he woke me up.”

The doctor wrote something on her notepad and looked up again. Lily could feel she was very curious about her story, but she wouldn't elaborate too much, she didn't need to know everything in details.

“I see. What did you do next?”

“Not much... He told me to get up, that we had to go out. I was still half asleep, I didn't understand what was happening. I thought he was just messing with me. But then... I smelled smoke and I realized he could be serious, so I got up and we went for the door.” The scene was vivid in Lily's mind. She could almost smell it again, she could still hear the urge in Misha's voice in her head. It was scary to remember.

“Were you afraid?”

“Not right away... I didn't know how bad it was and Misha was still pretty calm, so I didn't feel threatened.”

“I've read in your file that you were found in your room. Why didn't you leave right away?”

“When Misha tried to open the door, something fell in the hallway, blocking it. We were trapped. I saw flames through the door and it became hard to breathe, because there was smoke in my room too.” She cleared her throat and paused to take a deep breath. She could feel the lump forming already.

“Take your time, Lily, you're safe here. Let me get you some water.” Dr Dorville stood up and left the room. She quickly came back with a small water bottle and a cup that she put in front of Lily on the desk. It wasn't much really, but Lily thought she was a nice woman, and she felt a little more comfortable. She drank some water and felt ready to go on.

“I was scared at that point. I kinda froze. Misha took my hand, led us to the window and opened it, but my room was in the attic, we couldn't jump, it was too high.”

“Did you know where your family was at that moment? Where his family was?”

“Well... I heard Ryan screaming for my mom at some point, so I suppose she was near his room to get him out. Rebecca was outside when Misha opened the window. She told him she had already called 911 and asked Misha to stay in the room with the door closed and someone would come to get us quick. I don't know where Sasha was.”

“She just waited outside?” Dr Dorville couldn't hide her surprise.

“No, no! She came back inside, to help my mom I guess. I heard her call for us from downstairs a few moments later. She probably wanted to come and get us out, but she couldn't, something was obviously in the way, I don't know what. All I know is no one could come up by the stairs, or they would have, they wouldn't have just let us burn in the attic.” There was anger in Lily's voice, and she was a bit disappointed that Dr Dorville suggested they'd given up.

“Is it okay for you to go on?” She asked very gently. Lily closed her eyes for a few seconds and nodded, but the lump in her throat was very heavy now.

“How did you feel? What happened next?”

“I... I was terrified, and I knew Misha was trying to stay calm for my sake but he was scared too. We couldn't breathe, we were both coughing, so we sat on the floor at the foot of my bed, in front of the window. He tried to make me feel better but it was impossible. It was hot, there was smoke everywhere, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't see, all I could hear was wood cracking everywhere and my mom and Rebecca screaming from downstairs but I couldn't understand a word. I was panicking so Misha hugged me, but he was choking badly.”

“So you just waited for help, then?” When Dr Dorville asked that question, Lily almost felt attacked. She was already feeling super guilty, she didn't need to feel like they didn't do everything to get out.

“There was nothing we could do and nowhere else to go anymore!” she answered harshly.

“I know, Lily, no reproach here, I'm not here to judge. I'm just trying to have the maximum information to be able to understand and then help you. Sorry if I was a little too direct.”

Lily didn't answer. She was starting to feel angry, but probably more at herself, because she knew what happened next and she didn't really want to face it.

“Let me rephrase then: did you believe someone could get you out before it was too late?”

“I still had hope, yes. And then...” She shut her eyes tight and kept them shut when she spoke again “... Misha collapsed in my arms because he stopped breathing and I completely lost it. I laid him on the floor and tried to wake him up, I was calling his name again and again and I was shaking him but he didn't show any sign of life.” That was the most painful thing she ever felt, someone dying in her arms and her being totally helpless.

“We're almost done, Lily... But I will understand if you want to stop here.” Dr Dorville announced, and Lily truly considered finishing the session here and go back home. When she opened her eyes, tears fell down. Dr Dorville handed her the tissue box. She took one, wiped her eyes, and she surprised herself when she started talking again.

“I was feeling very dizzy and I was choking too. This is where I lost hope and thought I was going to die. I don't know why, but I took the blanket from my bed, I laid down on top of Misha and put the blanket on my back, probably to protect us from the fire, which is ridiculous because... blankets burn too, obviously.” Lily said sarcastically, showing the patched burn wound in her back.

“Then the firemen found you?”

“No. I wasn't conscious when they found us. After I put the blanket on us, I called Misha again but I knew it was pointless, then my vision went blank and I think I lost consciousness, and I don't know how much time passed until they finally found us and took us out... Enough time to get my back burnt, though.”

That was it. She did it... She managed to tell the whole story of that awful night. It was hard, it did hurt like a bitch, but she thought it was a tiny victory nonetheless.

“What is the first thing you remember after that?”

She thought for a few seconds.

“Waking up in the hospital, my grandmother in tears next to my bed, holding my hand. I was very confused at first, but when I started remembering what just happened, I asked her where was everyone and this is when she told me everyone was...” Lily paused, unable to say the word “dead”.

Dr Dorville spoke softly then. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“What can be more personal than the story I just told you?”

The doctor gave Lily a shy smile full of empathy and asked: “What kind of feelings did you have for Misha?”

Ah... didn't see that one coming.

It was indeed a very personal question, and though Lily knew exactly what the answer was, she didn't really see the point and she thought it was weird to say it out loud to a psychiatrist. But she was here to move on, right? So she looked Dr Dorville in the eyes and answered honestly.

“I loved him.” Tears flowed down her face and her chest ached because she realized it was in the past, done for good.

Dr Dorville pushed a little more. “Was it mutual?”

“Yes.”

That was a very direct and self-assured answer, which surprised Dr Dorville. How could a sixteen year-old girl be so sure about someone's feelings and say it so plainly after relating such a dramatic story?

“You seem pretty sure of it.” It picked her curiosity for sure.

“I am. But who cares now, he's gone.”

“That's... uncommon. Especially for someone your age. Most people often doubt when it comes to feelings.” the doctor explained, still surprised by her boldness.

“I don't. Are we done for today, Doctor?” Lily was on edge. She obviously didn't want to talk about it. Dr Dorville nodded.

“Yes, Lily. I am extremely proud of you, that was a huge step. I'm not going to keep you here any longer, you can go. I will see you next week.”

Lily stood up. “Thank you, Doctor.” 

She shook her hand and rushed out.

[brunchbitch]

When you get a moment could you please bullet update on your week?

sure! i’m putting it under a read more bc it’s long and boring.

2/19/17

this week has been okay - up and down.

i moved back to W (the group home) last tuesday and the first couple nights were very very hard, but since then it’s gotten a little better. or, rather, i’ve been trying to change my attitude towards it. i’m going to be living here for at least another year and i don’t want to be miserable the whole time so i’m doing my best to try to be a little more positive. laura, the residence director, has been nice and helpful, but not too overbearing which i was worried about - (can’t remember if i’ve already written this but) courtney called her to let her know they supported me moving back here and she was like “okay i would like a copy of her meal plan and her exercise plan. i will be watching her closely” and courtney was like “umm… usually by the time they’re in iop, they don’t really need to be watched outside of program” but laura said “i don’t care. i am not letting what happened in the fall happen again on my watch.” so i feel really bad bc i feel like she partially blamed herself for not intervening sooner. so i was worried about her watching me like a hawk but she’s been good. she asked me a little about partial/iop but hasn’t asked me what i’ve eaten or anything like that so that’s good.

on thursday i did shop and cook with another girl - we made chicken walnut cranberry goat cheese pizza and it was yummy. friday we went to a sandwich place for lunch. it was both my and another girl’s last outing in php, so we begged to get ice cream even though it was really cold. we were so excited when the dietitian said we could go to ben & jerry’s and obviously it was still scary and i felt guilty for being excited/asking for it, but i was also able to reflect on how far i’ve come since september and that’s really cool.

yesterday i finally had galentine’s day with my best friend and we did some painting and had coffee and lunch together while watching phantom of the opera. i was supposed to go to multi-family group at mnlh but my check engine light came on and i was too nervous to drive 30 min on the highway so i took it to a shop and bri and i went shopping at a fun store for a little bit. once i got my car back ($280 later ugh), i ended up still going to mnlh to say hi to some of my friends, but those three clients weren’t even there - they were all on pass. so i hung out with one of the recovery coaches who i was really close to. and T was there and i got to talk to her about brandon’s phone call which was really helpful. when i told her about the time limit/end date, she was like “does he think your ED is just going to go away by then?” and i was like EXACTLY and said how i wanted to tell him to put a time limit on our therapy too lol. i’m wondering if the director of mnlh might be able to talk to him and say that the end date wouldn’t be advisable. i don’t plan to see liz for the rest of my life, for sure, but i think it’s problematic to start out knowing when we’re going to end. if i really wanted to be in treatment, i probably would’ve said i didn’t need an ED team, and then just let myself relapse again so i could go back to residential. but i am ACTIVELY trying to make my outpatient team as supportive as possible so that i DON’T have to go back to a HLOC. so i’m gonna try to talk to him about this on friday. i really need to work on being honest with him, especially when i disagree with him. so i’m really glad i stopped by mnlh and got to talk to her. i told her i would try to come next weekend too so that i could update her on how the meeting went. while i was there, i saw a new client who looked really really awful, like should’ve been in the hospital, and she is T’s client. that was hard for me. i was jealous of her body (i know i shouldn’t be, but i am) and jealous that she was probably going to be there for a very long time which means that she gets to work with T for a very long time and that’s hard. i miss T so much and wish i was seeing her outpatient. but one thing that’s really helpful is that she does work on saturdays which is the day of the alumni group, so i can convince my bpd (or whatever) that i don’t need to get really sick to see her again - i can see her in group every week! and hopefully i won’t need to go every week for months and months, but i know it’s there if i need it and it’s a much healthier way of transitioning than saying goodbye to a therapist for good and knowing i would have to return as a patient if i wanted to see them again.

i milieu'ed last night (milieu is where we have to be in the common area of the house playing games or watching a movie - you can’t study or read or do anything too isolative - and we have to milieu three nights a week) and it was pretty low-key. i made dinner (brussels sprouts, sweet potato cranberry onion mix, and chicken breast) and prepped breakfast (baked blueberry oatmeal) then started some art journaling (mostly just cutting things out of magazines at this point).

this morning i was supposed to meet a friend for coffee but her car broke down and i’m bummed i couldn’t see her but was also kind of relieved bc i didn’t sleep well so i went back to bed for an hour. i had oatmeal for breakfast, did a load of laundry (still haven’t folded that whoops), unpacked a little, then went to volunteer at the cat shelter! that was fun and three kitties got adopted. i’m really happy i found this shelter bc they’re so nice and i love being around the cats so much so that’s been a source of joy for me. then i went to get snack at berryline and see my outpatient dietitian, kellie. 

we had a really good session and laughed a bit about the ridiculousness of the fall (she was like “how did you even have ketoacidosis, i mean that is so freaking rare! it’s one thing if you have ketones in your urine, but for the actual pH of your body to change…” and then she shook her head and laughed and i laughed too bc it really is fucking ridiculous. and then she reminded me that she was talking to me on the phone in between the two hospitalizations and i was saying that my legs were numb and she had said “well if it gets worse, you should go to your doctor” and i replied “how would i know if they get worse? i can’t feel them!” and she was like “umm… ok you should definitely go to your doctor” lol i did not remember having that conversation. i just remember being terrified of going to the doctor or the walk-in clinic bc brandon had told me if i was hospitalized again, he wouldn’t work with me again.) i talked about how frustrated i was with the end date issue and she agreed with me, not by saying that i should be able to see liz for the rest of my life, that there should be an end to it, but to not necessarily set a date at this time. we also talked about some goals (continue eating out at a restaurant at least once a week when i step down to iop even though i don’t “have” to bc there aren’t any outings in iop, log everything in recovery record, and practice more intuitive eating while challenging judgements). we decided she’s going to do blind weights and she’s not going to give me feedback unless it continues to trend in one direction or the other and she’s concerned. i know my general 5-pound range from britt so kellie is only going to bring it up when i’m outside of my range. i think that’s probably better bc i get really obsessive about “it’s up a little” “well how much? still in the range? how close to the upper edge of the range?” etc. although it was really hard to agree to that from the outset. she’s also going to be weighing me with clothes on at 4pm on sundays and i wanted so badly to see it today bc i’m sure it’s so much higher than usual. i joked that she must have a really good poker face with this job and she was like “yeah i’m really good.” so i don’t think i’ll get any info there. overall though it was a really good session and i’m so happy i get to start seeing her again.

i’m milieuing now but am probably gonna get in trouble for being on the computer so much so i better end here. sorry this update was probably SO boring.

[midlifemom-blog1]

Three days ago I stopped drinking.  Am I an alcoholic?  No, but I drank every night.  Never got wasted, never missed work, never fought with my kids or my friends or my ex, never blacked out, didn’t gain weight.  Oh and I never drank before 5.  I exercise every day so always “sweat it out”, get my kids to school on time (well, mostly), get myself to work, to the gym, have healthy food on the table at least three times a day.  My kids do well in school, have friends, my house is clean, my car has gas in it, my kids clothes are clean….you get the gist.  So, why stop?  Because I REALLY didn’t want to.  Because I LOVE having wine at night.  I look forward to it.  It is a treat. Because I really like drinking and don’t want to give it up.  I could throw a tantrum about it!

I would tell myself that it wasn’t a problem. And it wasn’t in the typical way that it is for many alcoholics. But it is a habit. I didn’t like that I wouldn’t stop.  I would tell myself that I would, but then find an excuse to have “just a glass of wine”.  I deserve it.  I have two kids, I do 80% of the domestic part of raising them, am in the process of separating from my husband of 15 years, work for myself, exercise, am involved in their school….but they are all excuses.  I didn’t want to give up the habit.  It seems like such a lovely ritual, have a glass of wine while making dinner….  but when ritual becomes something you depend on….not so good.

 And it’s a depressant. Yes, it increases the likelihood of depression and I am already prone to depression and have a history of low grade depression.  Not the “can’t get out of bed, lost interest in things that you enjoy depressed” but more of a “going through the motions, know there is more, want to feel more, see more, do more, lethargic” kind of depressed

But I did it.  I’m on day 4. Has it been hard?  Yes. 

It coincidentally (or not) coincided with being sick.  My son got a wicked bad cold and was up in the middle of the night coughing (on me) so I got sick too.  I would have thought that being sick would take away the desire to drink. It didn’t.   I really wanted a maragarita to soothe the fire in my throat or a glass of wine to take the edge off.  Being sick didn’t help me not want to drink at all. But, in some ways being sick and feeling shitty is a good time to stop drinking because you already feel shitty so what’s a little more shitty? And which comes first feeling shitty and wanting a drink or drinking and then feeling shitty the next day? Yea, that depressant thing.

But I am finding my desire to keep going. To stay sober. Partly because now I have evidence that I actually can. I’m curious about what, if any, changes will come. I really haven’t noticed any remarkable results yet. One thing I have noticed is that I am remembering my dreams every night.  Maybe I was drinking to keep my dreams at bay?  Maybe my dreams have something to tell me? Maybe even something good?  Why do we resist the things we know are good for us and that would make us feel good?

At 8:30 last night after a day home with my sick son, picking up my daughter  and a few hours of work, I did feel slightly more present when my daughter was practicing her “TED talk”.  I didn’t have that sleepy, slightly checked out feeling.  Why wouldn’t I want to be more present for my daughter?  Maybe because being present is intense and requires tolerating feelings without finding a way to check out?

 Day 8.  It has definitely gotten easier.  But it is still not easy.  Yesterday was a hard day for me. Lots of feelings.  Last night would have been a perfect night to have some wine.  But I stayed sober.  SOBER. It’s such an interesting word. Not altered by substances.  But also very serious.  When something is sobering it really wakes you up to reality.   You “sober up” pretty quickly.  I can’t numb my feelings anymore when I’m not drinking.  And times are tough for me.

I have been in the process of separating from my husband for a year now.  We have been living in the same house and raising our children together.  We are really good at that.  But we sleep in separate rooms and have separate lives. We have two amazing children that we have parented well.  We are really good co-parents.  But not a great couple.  So we are separating.  It’s painful.  It’s scary.  It’s overwhelming.  It’s confusing.  Sometimes I don’t know if I am doing the right thing.  Sometimes I feel clear.  I often wonder why I am not more clear?  And then I think about my kids and I remember.  This is inevitably painful for them.  And I am inflicting this pain on them.  That’s a hard place to be as a parent.  The last thing I want to do is hurt them. I want to ease their pain.  And that I question too.  Life is painful and if they don’t learn how to deal with their pain, life is even harder.  That is why many people drink.  To numb the pain.  Maybe this is an opportunity to be with them in their pain and to help them learn ways to be with their pain compassionately.  We are all so scared of our pain, our instinct is to run from it, to numb it,  get as far away from it as possible.  We are so good at distracting ourselves.  But, ultimately the healing comes in being with the pain.  The joy comes in holding the hurt.  As Glennon Doyle Melton says “first the pain, then the rising” in her beautiful speech on Oprah’s SuperSoul Sessions. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BpBnGHjda14

In some way, I think this is the ultimate life lesson.  Learning how to be compassionate with ourselves as we go through something that hurts. 

 My husband is planning to move out in the next few months.  There are times when I feel extreme relief at that thought.  The idea of having my own space not contaminated by his negative, low vibe energy.  But I love him and he is an amazing dad.  And he is my friend.  And no one knows my kids better.  And no one loves them more.  It’s scary.  When do we tell our kids?  A question I have given a lot of thought and  asked a lot of people about.  Not too much in advance so as not to add to a lengthy period of anxiety.  But not too close.  We want them to have time to process their feeling while he is still living here.  It’s gonna hurt.  I feel scared when I think about it. 

I think unconsciously I chose this time to get sober so that I could be really present for my kids.  To be able to be there for their feelings and my own. 

Why am I separating?  Because I am not happy in my marriage.  Because I don’t feel deeply connected to my husband.  Because I want something different.  Because we have struggled for a long time.  We have been in couples therapy three different times.  We have tried to make it work.  It just doesn’t feel right.  I want to live a higher vibe life.  To vibrate at a higher frequency.  To be elevated. 

Day 20.

I had some wine last night! It was great!

I went over to a friend’s house.  I needed it.  Wanted it.  I’m not sure why.  I sat with my feelings for a couple hours and still wanted to drink.  What was I feeling?  Insecure.  Scared. It started around 4. I sat with me feelings.  Drank some coffee. Had a snack.  Still wanted wine.  Went over to a friends house and she graciously offered me a glass of crisp cold sauvignon blanc, my favorite.  I had another glass of wine at home with my kids and we had a great night together.  Do I regret it?  Not really.  Will I get back on the wagon?  Maybe….

Ugh. This week sucked so badly.  SO BADLY! But alas….I am coming out of the hazy foggy shit of it……

A couple things I have been reminded of….things do pass and listen to your gut…

So, as far as the drinking, remember that one night where I drank with my friend?  Well, it turned into 4 days with two drinks a day….

The next day was my good friend’s daughters bat mitzvah and I had a couple glasses of wine there which was fun.  The next night, not so good…..I drank at home alone which I am realizing is the thing I want to stop for sure.  Didn’t get drunk, didn’t do anything “bad” but it is a waste…..next night out with friends for dinner and had two drinks.  The night was very reassuring and good in the sense that I have amazing people in my life who are here to support me.  I repeat…I have amazing people in my life who are here to support me.  My friends encouraged moderate drinking when out with friends but no drinking at home alone and no drinking every night.  So,…..I am now on day 4 of no drinking and it is feeling right.  One of the things I noticed after four days of drinking is a kind of “creping” of my eyelids which I am already self conscious of.  I feel as though as I age that is the spot on my body where I see the most aging.  So, out of vanity I am definitely cutting back on the wine.  I feel like my eyes look better as the days of not drinking increase.  So, for now, I am going to experiment.  I will see what drinking one night looks like the next day…..but I am committed to not drinking at home alone. 

The other thing that happened this week had to do with work.  Someone entered my practice who did not mix well with me.  Our energy was no good and if I wasn’t worried about money I might have been able to tune into that better.  But because I need money, I took her on….and it wasn’t good.  She is gone now and I am super grateful for that.  It is a good lesson.  The universe is good. 

Thank you universe for re-affirming my faith.  I am grateful to have my faith restored to me. 

I am grateful that the weekend is here. 

 Fast forward a few months…..not drinking again….this time its been a week.  I feel better.  Last time I was slightly underwhelmed by how I felt.  I expected to feel much better and I didn’t.  This time, I am aware of how much prettier I am when I’m not drinking.  I wake up feeling as though I look better, no puffy eyes, no bags under my eyes, no obvious signs of dehydration.  Vanity?  Seems as good of a reason as any.  Drinking isn’t the only thing I have given up.  I have also given up/ sworn of/ detoxing from…..dating apps.  Ugh.  Another love/hate relationship for me.  I have been single for a year and a half now, single as in “separated from my husband, so I am not cheating” single.  The dating apps have been a mixed bag for me.  I have met some nice guys and had some fun.  One guy I even dated for 4 months.  He was really nice and I think restored some faith that I could/would ever meet someone again.  But ultimately he wasn’t the guy for me.  After him, I decided I just wanted someone to have sex with, no strings attached, friend with benefits…..but that has its own share of complications.  It is all so complicated.  And it takes a ton of energy! And a lot of the time I feel like shit while I’m doing it, the swiping that is.  I swipe right and he doesn’t, he swipes right and I’m not interested.  So why do it? ????? Because it, like drinking, is really insidious.  It gets under your skin.  Hope! I might meet someone! And it’s a distraction.  I would check the apps like I check my phone. It’s addictive.  None of it was feeling good anymore.  I want to be present for my life.  I want to show up.  I want to feel good.

[canaryatlaw]

So, today was, alright. And after the trainwreck that was yesterday, I'm satisfied with alright. Woke up somewhere around 10:25 and got ready, but didn't bother to do make up (lazy and sick) then got a Lyft out to this new doctor. He's out in one of the suburbs, not too far outside the city, but enough that it's a considerable distance that I probably couldn't get to by public transportation alone so I ended up spending a fortune on Lyfts today, but oh well. We got out there in good time and find the office easy enough, fill out some paperwork and get called back. Of course, the first thing they want to do is the lung functioning test that I've done, not exaggerating, completely literal- about 50 times at this point. Like, I've done this test to death. But I was of course interested to see what it would say now that it seemed like my lungs had been pretty severely compromised. So the whole thing is they have you breathe into this mouthpiece thing in and out and then you take a really deep breath and blow it all the way our for as long as you possibly can and its not terribly pleasant. So we do it the first time, and at the end I'm coughing a good amount from the effort and need a minute. So then we do the second one, and after that I straight up could not stop coughing, like I had to sit down and get water because it was that bad. And yet I'm staring at the image on the screen and I know it means my lungs are functioning normally because I've seen that 50 times before. Sigh. So I go to talk to the doctor and I explain my whole complicated medical history (well, not all of it, but the relevant pieces to here. He pretty much straight up rejects the idea that I have asthma or should be treated using asthma medication, which makes sense being that not once in my life have I ever tested positive for asthma (despite being screened about 50 times) and asthma medication generally has no effect on me, although it can help with the cough sometime, but he explained that that's just how the medicine works that it would have that result anyway but it's not doing anything to solve the problem. And I mean, everything he's saying seems to makes hell of a lot of sense so far. So what is this? Well, then we start talking about my acid reflux, and he says that it can cause way more symptoms than just heartburn, and just because you're not getting heartburn doesn't meant your reflux is controlled, and it can be causing other symptoms, including coughing and back drip and all that ever stuff. Huh. So he says for now he wants me to double the acid reflux medication I'm on, and that if I'm in a coughing fit pop a tums, and he gave me a nasal spray as well, saying hopefully we'll see results in 5-7 days and I can call and update him. My symptoms overall did feel better today, though I don't know what to attribute that to, but I was significantly less miserable that yesterday so that was interesting. So, hey, I'm willing to give this a try at this point, a lot of what he said does make sense with my medical history and he does remind me of my old allergist who was always spotting things other doctors totally missed. If none of this works though and we're back at square one, the next step would probably be getting on a plane to NY for a day or two for an emergency consult with my pulmonologist there, because at least he knows me and he knows me case and most importantly, he's successfully treated my symptoms. But I'm hoping we don't have to go there. I'm gonna try to get an appointment with him while I'm home in June for a bit anyway just to check in with things. So yeah, hopefully this will work. Got a Lyft home, got into my apartment with enough time to drop my things then run right back out to physical therapy, that is thankfully only around the corner. It felt like a pretty productive session, lots of shaky muscles which is something that's been happening to me forever now, so maybe that can get fixed here too, that would certainly be nice. I'm just hoping I can remember all the exercise he wants me to do at home now, lol, since he was introducing new ones. Oh well. So that went well. I passed the kosher deli on my way home and stopped in for some matzoh ball soup, because I'm sick and I can, and went home and ate that before heading back out yet again to go downtown. On my way there, I check my email to see that my prof has cancelled our class for tonight because she is sick, but I was already meeting my partner for my oral argument before hand and I had to pick up my prescriptions so it wasn't a big deal. Got off a stop early and grabbed my prescriptions from target, then met my partner in the library and talked things over. It's pretty basic, each of us is taking one argument and going up against the lawyer on the other side about it. I ended up doing the impeachment argument just because I thought that it was stronger due to the 4th amendment principles supporting it (I won't get not what all of that means because believe me, you'll be bored) so I typed up an outline for that that I likely will not take one look at until the oral argument, but oh well. We finished up and left the library, and I had to stop at Starbucks and try this ridiculous unicorn frappuccino because I'm a basic white girl and I've given up fighting this, so hopefully you saw my post about that earlier (and it's rather brilliant Moana pun that I was quite proud of). So that was an interesting experience. It's hard to describe, just kind of sweet and tangy and a bit sour, it's good though. After that I headed home and decided to give myself the rest of the night off because I was tired dammit, so I got some food and turned on my shows, starting with Brooklyn 99 which was hilarious of course. Then I went to the last two episodes of trial and error, which (spoiler alert obviously) I FUCKING KNEW FROM THE BEGINNING THEY WEFE GONNA RIP OFF THE STAIRCASE AND THEY RIPPED THEIR CONCLUSION LITERALLY RIGHT FROM IT lol. I mean it was totally brilliant and it cracked me up that they did that, it was a great move on their part. After that I realized designated survivor was on, so I watched that slightly delayed from real time by about 5-10 minutes. Another solid episode, not quite as good as the last two weeks I think but still quality in all the places it needed to be and did a good job in setting the plot forward. Given the circumstances I get why he wanted to go with the eight Justice Supreme Court, but given our current judicial situation (if you're unaware, we currently have an open seat on the supreme court since Scalia died, so there's not gonna be a tie breaker vote in a close case). And I mean they're right, most cases down come down to a split 5-4 decision, but a lot of crucial ones do. I understand he was trying to get the court up and functioning, and I can see why he did that, but I'd like to see that vacancy filled sooner rather than later, so I hope it's a plot line they follow up on. As far as real life selection of a judge goes, ugh, don't talk to me about it. And yeah, that was pretty much my day. Not too bad overall. I'm tired now though, so I'm going to take my leave and get some sleep. Goodnight babes. Sweet dreams.