Page 15 of For All It's Worth
Being unable to lock the doors was the only visible sign at first that this wasn’t a spa. The search of my belongings and having to submit to a pat-down were the next signs.
We had therapy alone and in groups. I had mixed results with both, having never been much of a sharer. Coping strategies were great and all, but I didn’t appreciate having to practice them with role-play. Not the kind of role play I liked, though there was no chance of the good kind with the people there. We were told not to get too friendly, to not become codependent on each other. It was fine to make friends, but we had to remember at all times why we were here and instead focus on our journey to good health and habits.
I spent a lot of my time outside in the extensive gardens with my camera or in the gym. The doctors on staff had cleared me to use the gym after my first week there, which was great because the continued forced group therapy had my temper flaring. I tried not to let it show but I often had to visit the gym after a session just to calm down by forcing my body into exhaustion.
After so many benders and a lack of decent nutrition, I was thinner and weaker than I’d realized. It took a few weeks of fresh air, good food, and exercise before I began to look anything like my former self.
I’d gotten permission from the staff and fellow patients to chart my rehab journey with my camera. It’d been a suggestion from an in-house therapist, but I think that they’d meant a bunch of selfies or something. I became fascinated by all the changes in the people around me as they came back to being healthy.
The slow pace and steady routines quickly became reassuring, but the outside world didn’t slow. All too soon I was faced with the reality of leaving the comfort and safety of the center for the outside world.
Part of the process of rehab was tallying up all the progress that had been made towards our goals, and even I had to admit that I’d done a lot to work through some of the issues that had been plaguing me.
I’d written all my letters and surprisingly had gotten some replies. After one very awkward call with Will, I was passed on to Andy, and we struck up an unlikely friendship. I wondered if it would continue on the outside.
The manager that I’d hurt and offended accepted my apology on the provision that I stay away from the club. It was a relief, and I knew my family was glad to have the threat of a lawsuit gone from hanging over my head.
The letters and replies really got to the heart of some of my issues, highlighting a lack of support system other than Max, which was unhealthy. I had targets and had identified future issues as part of my preparation for leaving rehab as the days there ticked down. Evan had been making trips to the center to keep up with my progress and make sure that he was aware of any treatment plans that were needed when I got out.
I officially had a clean slate when I rejoined the outside world at the end of my sixty days, but there was a large part of me that wondered if I was ready. Rehab was safe. The people there could be annoying, but they meant well. My family paid a lot to have me stay there and I could grudgingly admit that it’d helped, but going home meant seeing the faces of people that I’d hurt. The letters kept them at a distance and it was all too easy to accept an apology when the person wasn’t in your face.
There was also the fact that I was going home to no job and no place to live. I couldn’t stay with Mom for long without wanting to escape, and I had no idea how to fill my days. I’d have to find a job eventually, though the club's sale had made a decent profit so it wasn’t like I needed the money. Filling my days with something other than partying was going to be my biggest problem. I didn’t want to work in finance. It was too high pressure, and was what had started the heavy drinking in the first place. There wasn’t much else that I was trained for and nothing that interested me enough to want to go back to college, though I could afford to do that if I found something I wanted.
It made me think about what I could do. Maybe I could buy an apartment and just get a job in a kitchen or something. I could cook, except chefs didn’t have the greatest reputation when it came to drinking, so unless it was a café, then that was a bad idea. I wasn’t the greatest with people, so retail and food service were probably out. Plus I didn’t want to be around alcohol a lot if there were stressors that could cause a relapse.
My options were limited and it was beyond frustrating to hit thirty and have to start over. I mean, thirty wasn’t old but most people my age seemed to have their shit together, right?
I spent the ride back into the city dwelling on what was ahead. Tomorrow I’d look for somewhere else to live and do what Will did. When our father died, he invested the inheritance we’d gotten on a property. Then I’d look for a job that I wouldn’t mind doing, reminding myself that I was lucky and privileged to have money and not have to worry about making rent.
Mom met the town car when it pulled up in front of the main entrance of her house. The sprawling mansion didn’t suit her. It was ostentatious and gaudy. If Dad hadn’t been so proud of it, I’m sure she would have sold it by now and moved to the lake cabin that suited her better.
“Hello darling,” she said, pulling me into a hug as soon as I was free of the car. Holding me at arm’s length after our brief embrace, she ran an assessing eye over me. “The gym seems to be working wonders on you, sweetheart. You look so well!”
“You saw me two weeks ago at your last visit, Mom.”
“And in that time, you look different. I do hope you aren’t overdoing it. Too muscly isn’t attractive.” She looked up at the gathering clouds. “It looks like rain, let’s go inside and…”
Already I felt trapped and wanted something to shut off the noise in my head. I cut her off. “Could we start looking at properties? I’d like to buy a house and you helped so much with Will and Alex’s places.”
She smiled at me but her eyes were sad. “Of course!”
I hated to hurt her, but this house held too many memories for it to be a place where I could have the clean slate that rehab had promoted. The sooner I was in my own space, the better.
