Page 35 of Rewriting the Story

I take a deep breath before I speak again. “Because I’m going to tell you guys everything.”

Before I can stop myself, my feet carry me over to Paige’s giant bed, and I cover myself in a blanket, making myself as comfortable as I can before I have to tell the most uncomfortable story of all time.

I know it’s my fault, which is why it’s so hard for me to talk about this. I know the girls have thought I was a horrible person more times than I can think about, but what I did to Henry will solidify my terrible human being status. No diagnosis can undo the fact that I broke the heart of a boy who just wanted to love me.

The girls get comfortable on the bed, Paige even opting to hold my hand as I get my breathing under control.

“Take your time,” Paige tells me.

I can only shake my head. “I don’t deserve to feel like this. I’m the only one I can blame for all the shit I did.”

“Well, yeah,” Ella says, affirming my own belief. “But you’re still allowed to hurt about the things you fucked up about. That shows me you’re a human and not just an unfeeling robot like I thought you were.”

“Ells,” Paige says, her voice soft as she continues to hold my hand.

“She’s right,” I agree. “I was a robot, but when it comes to him…” I can barely say his name without wanting to crumble into my guilt. “He was the only person besides you guys who has ever made me feel any semblance of anything.”

“What happened on that day in the airport, Ames?” Hads asks.

“I broke him,” is all I can get out before the tears start to fall. It feels good to get this all out. I don’t think I ever acknowledged how I felt about everything that transpired between us. My journal has heard it all, but I’ve never spoken the words out loud. It gives it more meaning hearing the words filter through my ears, my own voice sounding far away.

I take another breath before I continue, the girls existing around me as I try to get the words out. “I guess I have to go back a bit.”

“Start from wherever you need to,” Ella tells me.

“You guys know I had a hard time in England. When we all talked individually, I mentioned it, but what you don’t know is how I got out of it. I’m not even sure when it started getting really bad, but I was forced to take time off work. I had a month off, and all I was doing every day was spiraling about every little thing. My head was too loud. I wasn't sleeping. I could barely eat. I felt like I was constantly wrestling with myself, hating how I couldn't seem to get my shit together but desperately wanting to.”

“That must have been hard,” Paige says. “Dealing with that all on your own.”

“She wouldn't have been alone if she had told us about it.” Ella crosses her arms. “We would have been there for you.”

“I know,” I say, wiping a tear from my face. “I started seeing a therapist to help dig myself out of the hole.” I take a deep breath. “She diagnosed me with ADHD, and feel free to tell your partners about this, because I can’t have this conversation with all of them.”

“I don’t know if I’m more surprised about you seeing a therapist or you having ADHD,” Hads tells me.

A small laugh escapes my mouth. “Looking back on everything, my diagnosis makes a lot of sense. It actually annoyed the shit out of me that it took so long to figure out why I operate the way I do.”

“What do you mean by that?” Paige asks me.

“Well, my parents always thought I was a lazy, unmotivated kid. I did okay in school, but I disrupted class a lot. I couldn't seem to slow my brain down. I was always talking over other kids and teachers. My parents didn't know what to do with me. I didn't have a lot of energy, and I got distracted easily when we did things as a family, so they sort of gave up. As I got into my teenage years, I became more forgetful. I’d start to clean my room, then get distracted by something else. I never slept because my mind wouldn't turn off, and I never wanted to talk to them about what I was feeling because they would just tell me to try harder at focusing.”

Paige squeezes my hand.

“And when they outlined my life to follow the path they wanted, I just accepted it. Until I got to college and realized I couldn't focus in class and I hated what I was studying because it wasn't something I was interested in. When I switched to journalism, I felt better because I was actually interested in the material, but I still couldn't focus. I forced myself to do my best, and thankfully, I did fine in my classes. It just felt like it took me longer than others to do simple assignments that should have taken all of fifteen minutes. I thought that was just who I was. Now I know that’s just the way my brain works, but it was really fucking hard back then.”

I look up at all of them, three understanding faces look back at me.

“My entire life I felt disorganized, and I leaned into these stupid quirks because I thought that was just who I was. Amelia the bolter. Amelia the girl who runs away from everything. Amelia the girl who can’t ever sleep. Amelia the mess. I was wrestling between two versions of myself at all times—one of them being the ADHD side of me and the other the side of me who wanted so badly to be put together.”

“Wow,” is all Ella can say.“But why didn't you come to us about all this when it was happening? Why did you cut us off completely?”

“My therapist says it's because I struggle with object permanence, in life and in relationships. If it’s not immediately around me or in my circle of everyday life, it’s harder for me to remember it exists. I’m not excusingmy behavior. It’s just how my brain acted before I was medicated. Since I’ve been on a steady routine and taking my medication every morning, it’s been easier to handle things. I’m more focused than I’ve ever been, and I’m managing things better than before. It was a long fucking road to get here, and I’m still on it, still figuring out how this all works.”

“I don’t really understand that,” Ella says. “But at some point, maybe we can all sit down, and you can tell us how we can help to better understand your brain how it is now.”

“We knew what you were like before this, Ames.” Paige smiles at me. “We don’t know how your brain works now, and I think what Ella said is a wonderful idea.”

“Agreed,” Hads says.

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