Day 1
Now I have to keep a journal? Good grief, I just got here and already the discomfort begins. Why must everyone journal everything. Maybe some people just want to keep to themselves. If this is the worst thing I have to deal with, I will be outta here in no time.
Katherine
Day 2
Three sentences. Sum up my feelings every day in three sentences. What kind of therapy is this? Here are three for you. This is dumb. This is dumb. This is dumb. Here is a fourth. What a waste of time. I should be working. I could be out there changing the world.
Katherine
Day 3
Today, they assigned me a “spiritual advisor” to “guide” me through the recovery process. What in the world does a spiritual advisor have to do with getting me back to work? Bonus—her name is Faith. Almost like they planned it. I can’t wait to get out of here.
Katherine
Day 4
Hello, forced journaling. Your nemesis here. What I wouldn’t give to type three sentences on a communications post right now. I wonder who’s got my job while I am locked up in the lap of luxury rehab. They are wasting their time. I don’t break.
Katherine
Day 5
This series of the longest days in history just got longer. Today, I am blessed with a roommate. I would tell you her story, but I do not think it is wise to give her any more words than necessary . . . she has plenty already.
Katherine
Day 6
They keep telling me to find peace at this place and then they give me the most chatty roommate alive. Needless to say, I went looking for peace outside today. I didn’t find much peace but did find a bench far away from all the noise.
Katherine
Day 7
A week. I have missed an entire week of my life. And I still have seven more days before they will even let me have a phone call with the outside world. I wonder how many accounts this no outside contact rule has lost me. Some things can just not be recovered.
Katherine
Day 8
I know what the next question will be. How did I pass the drug tests? A question I now have to answer when the brutally bland woman sitting across the table asks me. All thanks to a clumsy roommate. I thought things were bad, but I was wrong. Now things are bad.
Katherine
Day 9
Well, I got my wish. I have earned my own private, but supervised, room away from everyone. Since the moment that false bottom fell out of the jewelry box and pills went flying across the floor, they haven’t taken their eyes off me. Not feeling real hot right now.
Katherine
Day 10
I am crawling out of my own skin. Sleep eludes me. My thoughts are racing. It wasn’t this bad last time. Of course, I am four years older now. Maybe my body has just had enough torture to last a lifetime. I am not looking forward to the return of the pain.
Katherine
Day 11
You haven’t lived until you’ve thrown up all over the white leather chairs outside your addiction counselor’s office in front of strangers as some random girl hands you a towel and a compassionate smile of pity. Maybe it was a mistake to refuse the comfort meds.
Katherine
Day 12
I am usually thankful for an oversized mirror in a spacious private bath. But not today. I look like death. I don’t even know the girl with the dark circles glaring at me from the other side of the glass. That’s fitting. I never wanted to know her anyway.
Katherine
Day 13
I heard Faith in the hallway asking the medical staff about my progress. I guess she is keeping her distance. I guess I would too if my star patient threw a shoe at me. Good. She can go spiritually advise someone with a soul worth evaluating.
Katherine
Day 14
The pain has creeped back in, weaving through my ribs like lava. The nightmares were not far behind. Reminders of my failures at every turn. At least I get my phone back today. Contact with the outside world should be a nice distraction from the terror.
Katherine
Day 15
A lovely demon named Trevor, also known as the creativity coach, was the unfortunate messenger that my fourteen days of no contact restarted the day they confiscated my only chance at survival. At this rate, I am going to run out of shoes.
Katherine
Day 16
Trevor braved a visit again today, offering me a time to go to the arts studio. I was too tired to throw the shoe. Faith has not been as bold. I don’t have a creative bone in my body. Only broken ones that healed wrong. No art in the world is going to fix those.
Katherine
Day 17
The ivory walls were suffocating me, but options were limited. Even if I felt like talking, there is no one here worth bothering with. Just a bunch of whiny rich addicts. It took all the energy I had to make it to the bench. But it cost less than conversation.
Katherine
Day 18
Tala is bravest one yet. You would think she was gunning for a job here the way she just marched up and plopped on my bench. Said a lot about her, even though she never said a word. I did bother to apologize for almost puking on her last week. She just nodded.
Katherine
Day 19
I’m not sure which is worse, the headaches and fatigue or the constant nausea and shaking. The forks clanging on plates in the dining room make me want to scream. The only peace I find is my spot by the water. Tala showed up again. Still didn’t talk. I’m okay with that.
Katherine
Day 21
How they even found this now sticky mess of a journal is beyond me. I guess they don’t consider its disposal with the leftover truffle salad as amusing as I did. It’s not like I could eat even if I wanted to. Pain like this doesn’t acknowledge meals.
Katherine
Day 22
Finally got to make a call only to find out there is no one left to pick up the phone. Of course they gave my job to Breanna. Decades younger and more willing to compromise her ethics. Twenty years of my life erased by a twenty-year-old. So much for loyalty.
Katherine
Day 23
Tala planted herself on my bench again. I let her know I was not talking to anyone. She stayed for two hours. Just staring at the water in the complete silence I commanded. I cannot figure out what she is after, but she wants something. Everyone always does.
Katherine
Day 24
They want to move me to a more “appropriate” job title. All because of one very public meltdown at work? They were even kind enough to remind me of my contract and their “ample generosity” to pay for my “current situation.” I guess I trained them well.
Katherine
Day 25
I thought about talking to Tala today as we stared at the water for hours. I heard her tell someone yesterday she has been here almost sixty days. I wonder what her vice was. I wonder what pain she was running from and if it was like mine.
Katherine
Day 26
Seriously? Locked out of every company account. I think I liked it better when I didn’t know how few real friends I actually had. I can’t trust anyone, not even myself. Surrounding myself with safe people is a skill I have obviously not mastered. Time to retreat.
Katherine
Day 27
Apparently, refusal to get out of bed all day is frowned upon in the lap of luxury lock up. I’ve had more visitors in the last six hours than I had in three weeks after the accident. But the pain of now feels like a bigger head on collision than five years ago.
Katherine
Day 28
At Trevor’s great delight, I disagreeably stumbled out of bed and into the art studio. I was shocked at how safe it felt even though all I did was sit and observe. Tala was there, painting what seemed like random things. But then there was that one painting. . .
Katherine
Day 29
I couldn’t shake that image. The little girl in a field of sunflowers twirling in a white linen dress. There was something about Tala’s painting. Something sad and joyful at the same time. Good grief. Listen at me. As if feelings were my thing. Get it together.
Katherine
Day 30
Apparently, I have accomplished some kind of Serenity Springs milestone. All because I managed to stay breathing for thirty days and didn’t run away. Where would I even go? No friends, family, no job. All gone. It already feels like I am breathing under water.
Katherine
