I do not own anything, just my ideas.
Chapter 62
TRIS
Session One
Bob sits on the opposite side of me in a large circle. There are about 5 of us, all in our teens or early twenties, and all screwed up in some shape or way. There is one empty seat that Bob has set up, but it remains empty when he stands to start.
It is weird seeing Bob like this. Even though I have been to his office and he has been to my house, he still feels like a stranger. And in this new place under these circumstances, it is like we are meeting for the first time.
"Let's get started, everybody," Bob says. He looks around the circle at the different faces. When his eyes land on me, I advert my attention to my hands rubbing my legs.
Bob sits down and clears his throat. "Welcome to group therapy. Now, I think everyone knows this, but each person in this circle has been through some traumatizing situations resulting in PTSD. We should respect everyone here and their story and the path that brought them here. We will be meeting once a week, so don't feel like you need to be closed off."
I feel like the last comment is directed at me.
He clears his throat and picks up a bowl filled with slips of paper. He says, "I like starting group discussion with a quote."
He reaches in a pulls out a slip. "So here is today's: I believe everyone has a little bit of 'I want to save the world' in them. That is why we're here and why we've made it this far," Bob pauses and looks up at the people in the circle. "I also believe that it's okay if you only save one person, and it is okay if that person is you."
Bob looks around and says, "Why don't we introduce ourselves?"
I look around. It's an odd feeling when you are deciding whether you should spill your secrets. But at this point, I feel like they aren't my secrets anymore. That is what upsets me the most. The one thing that should be mine doesn't belong to me. That's the problem with secrets… even if you think you're in control, you're not. All of it is complicated, and that's good. Because if it was simple, there is no reason for it.
Maybe it's best that way.
We go around the circle one by one—Diana, Mackenzie and Alex. Mackenzie was neglected and Diana was raped and Alex was attacked for being gay. When we get to me, I feel a little less exposed. Humans are vulnerable because they are capable of getting hurt, and everyone I am around has been hurt. It does not make it easier, but it does help put me at ease.
"My name is Tris. I moved to Chicago a little over a year ago." Where do I begin? "I guess I am here because I almost died – more than once." I pause and continue to tell my story.
About Peter.
About Rose.
About the trial.
About Al and the school shooting.
About David.
About my mom and dad and Caleb.
"I call it the black," I say. "Some days it creeps up on me when I least expect it, and other days it trails me, slowly consuming me. I want it to go away, but it feels like the harder I push it out, the stronger it pushes back."
"Thank you for sharing, Tris."
The guy that sits next to me introduces himself. He has burn marks on his hands and a wicked one that runs up his neck. "I'm Ray. For me, it isn't the black, it's the light. The fire. I was trapped in a house fire and, as you can see, I have some burns from it. I walked away pretty unmarked, considering."
He pauses. He doesn't have to say it. I try to picture what it would be like to be trapped in an inferno. The scars on his body aren't the only ones that developed that day.
We keep going around the circle, one by one. It is sobering to see these people and their pasts. Some are more dramatic than others, but in some way, we all know the secret. People have scars in all sorts of unexpected places, like a secret road map. Most of our wounds heal and most of the demons end their haunt, but some scars don't heal and some demons don't leave. We carry them with us everywhere, and though the cut that originally caused it is long gone, the pain still lingers.
I touch the scar on my chest.
Our attention goes briefly to the empty chair. Bob does not address it, but I see him glancing at it over and over. Whoever was supposed to come, didn't. For some reason, it upsets me. Not in the sense of being fair; I have to be here so why can't this person? It's not that at all. These people are now strangers with my secrets, but they don't feel like strangers. We are here to help ourselves and help each other. And something about that combination eases me into a state of calm that is new and different.
Bob makes this first session easy. He says he wants us to just get to know each other better, as it will make opening up easier.
Or so he says.
Session Two
Only those who try to resist temptation know how strong it is. You find out the strength of a wind by trying to walk against it, not by lying down. –C. S. Lewis
The girl with bright red and frizzy hair shares her story.
When we introduced ourselves, she said that her name is Mackenzie and she was here because she was neglected by her alcoholic parents, and then she started to become an alcoholic.
"I would go days without seeing them. When I was really young, I would go hungry because they wouldn't go grocery shopping or feed me. It was like living alone, but as a child. They would sometimes come back, but they never acknowledged me. I would find them passed out at odd times of the days, never consistent times, and always at the worst possible. One day, I guess I wanted to know what about the alcohol made it so, you know, intoxicating. I guess it went downhill from there."
She looks at the floor. "I know alcohol was never the answer, but sometimes it helped forget the question. And damn... damn did it feel good to let my throat burn instead of my heart."
"Thank you for sharing," Bob says. "Now, I want everyone to be honest, please raise your hand if you ever self-medicated with alcohol."
A few people raise their hands and I hold up mine, but only partially. Technically I did drink, but that was before all the other stuff. I haven't had a drop in a long time.
I can hear some of my old excuses in my head. Sometimes drinking would help me forget, help me let go, even for a split second. But what came next? Sure I received a moment of temporary happiness, but it was always followed with regret.
"It's ironic," Mackenzie continues. "The whole thing. I was neglected by alcoholics, and then I became one. I don't know why we all hang on to something we know we are better off letting go of. It's like we're scared to lose what we don't even really have. We say we'd rather have something than absolutely nothing. But the truth is, to have it halfway is harder than having nothing all."
There is a pause. Mackenzie seems almost lost in her own thoughts – maybe being sucked into a memory. One at the bottom of a hole that was dug so deep, you don't realize it until you look up and see yourself so far down.
"I remember the first time. You get to a point where it is too much and you are so… so damn tired of fighting. And…"
"And you give up," Bob finishes. "You failed. But that is when the real work begins. Mackenzie, and everyone for that matter, in your life, you will have so many times you fail that you will not remember. The key is, when you fail, do not begin calling yourself a failure."
Session Three
This may be a sad chapter, but you are not a sad story.
The seat that has remained empty for the past two sessions stays empty as we begin.
We begin with going around our circle and say our high of the week and our low of the week. It feels ridiculous, going back and forth like children commenting on the good and bad things that have happened in the last several days. But at the same time, it help me see that there is something special about the small highs – the little victories – that tastes so sweet when saying it out loud. And it makes the lows not seem so deep and lonely.
Suddenly, the door opens, and a girl walks in. She has warm brown skin and dark hair. I know who she is, and the recognition startles me.
Nina.
Bob's attention goes to her. "Oh, hello. Everyone, our last member of the group has arrived."
She sits in the empty seat. She looks around, and after a pause, Bob asks her to share with the group why she is here. She looks stunned, as if she is out of place and no one has asked her to share a part of herself so bluntly.
Bob senses her hesitation and says, "Why don't we all introduce ourselves again. Nina?"
"The name is Nina. My parents are dead and I saw them die."
We go around the room, again. We follow Nina's bluntness.
When we get to me, I say, "My name is Tris, and basically, the rumors are true."
Nina smirks and briefly chuckles to herself.
I smile too. Then I get a little more serious. "And Nina, I lost my mother, too."
She gets an angry look on her face, as if my mother's death was in any way compared to her losing both her parents. I get a wave of regret, wishing I had said nothing at all, until her face loses its tension.
She senses my uneasiness, and takes a breath. She says, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get worked up. I'm sorry to hear about your mom."
I nod.
She shakes her head as if she is holding back, wishing she could be anywhere but here. The feeling is familiar, but my time in this little circle has changed my prospective on those same feelings.
"I am so tired of being angry. It takes up so much of my energy to the point where I can't even stand at the end of the day. And when the flashbacks happen, they suck the life right out of me. I am angry at the person who did this. I am angry with my horrible grandparents. I am angry at a system that failed me… I am angry with, with God." Her voice shakes at the end.
"You may not think it when you first look at me, but my parents and I were strong in our faith. It was beautiful. It was standing in front of a judge who tells you that you're cherished and you have what it takes, flaws and all." She smiles, then frowns. "But it was lie. I don't know what to think anymore. All I know is anger."
"Why do you think the anger is there?"
"Because without the anger, there is only sadness. I am paralyzed without the fire of my anger, and I have gotten used to its warmth, how it makes me feel alive – instead of the alternative."
She continues, "I know I can't go on this way. I will burn out, and I hate how toxic it feels to be fueled by this fury. I don't know what to think or believe anymore."
Bob opens his mouth to say something, but Mackenzie cuts him off. "It's okay to not know and question it all."
She pulls out a large looking coin and rubs it idly. It takes me a moment to realize it's an AA chip "It weighs so heavy in my pocket, yet sometimes I forget it is even there. He's the same way. We may not know His plan – and let's be real – it's a shit plan, but I do know if God brings you to it, He'll bring you through it".
Session Four
I destroyed my enemy when I made him my friend. –Abraham Lincoln
"Let me ask you something, Tris."
"Okay."
He looks around at the others in the circle. "In fact, everyone think about this." His eyes linger on Haley in particular.
"Has anyone gotten a tooth pulled?"
A few people nod, but the closest thing I can think of is the time Caleb made a pulley system to remove one of my lose teeth when we were kids. It involved a lot of string, a toaster, and gravity between the second floor stair landing and the first floor.
"Well, letting go is like pulling a tooth. When it was pulled out, you are relieved, but how many times does your tongue runs itself over the spot where the tooth once was? Probably a hundred times a day. Just because it wasn't hurting you doesn't mean you didn't notice it. It leaves a gap and sometimes you see yourself missing it terribly. It's going to take some time to get used to it. But should you have kept the tooth?"
He pauses and looks around, rhetorically asking the rest of the group. My initial reaction is no, but I don't say it out loud because it is not what my actions show.
"No," Nina finally says. "It was causing too much pain. Or it was a baby tooth, and you need to grow out of that."
"That's right," Bob says.
Moving on from something is directly correlated to time. It is painful and relentless at first, and that is why we fight it, as if not moving on will validate how we feel. You can't let go until you move on, but I don't think that is true. In order to completely let something go, you have to release it from you. You have to be away from it. And unfortunately, it takes time. It has a way of dulling the hurt and the anger and the bitterness. Perhaps one day, it will not go noticed.
I think moving on and letting go does not happen at a particular moment. I think it is gradual, and it happens without us even realizing it.
Eventually, we are all gonna move on. It's called growing up. Or something like that.
Session Five
We are told to let our light shine and if it does, we won't need to tell anyone it does. Lighthouses don't fire cannons to call attention to their shining—they just shine. –Dwight L. Moody
"People like to tell me that they are sorry for all the burden that has fallen on me because I will never escape it. But if I had to go through it again—for this outcome—I would," Diana say, with a small spark flittering in her eye.
Her last statement bothers me. She was attacked and raped. Who would want to go through that again?
She continues, "I never wanted to be a leader of any kind. I never had the drive or passion for anything. But now, I have started self-defense classes and a support group at my college. I have met people that I would not give a second thought into liking. I am not saying I am happy it happened because I still wake up from nightmares and can't ever be alone. I just think everything happens for a reason and, as cheesy as it sounds, there is a greater plan we don't know about."
There is a pause.
Maybe Peter was supposed to happen, because if it didn't, there would be no Rose. Maybe Rose is meant to become a doctor that cures a disease one day. Or she becomes the President. Or she writes the Great American Novel. All these possibilities, all this life, coming from such a terrible thing.
Maybe I am not supposed to think about it too hard, because trying to understand would be an endless game. Perhaps we should let our hair down a little, roll up our sleeves, and get our hands a little dirty with questions and doubts.
Session Six
Pick battles big enough to matter and small enough to win.
After weeks of letting others talk, I am forced to speak up.
"I surprise myself. I think we all do. You see, I couldn't hide the secrets I desperately wanted to keep. But the secrets that I didn't try to hide, they stayed hidden. I've learned that just because you've escaped something, doesn't mean its tentacles still don't poison you. We all have shrapnel that we need to remove."
I look at Bob. He has been really good. We don't talk about group therapy outside of it, and he treats me like a normal, not messed up person when we are with Tori. It makes the whole thing feel a little more normal.
"A long time ago, I taught myself that it was easier to keeps things to myself. I never learned how to deal with my inner demons. At a particular time when I got really low, my father sent me away. The place that he sent me was filled with white rooms and doctors. They ran tests on me and taught me that the way I was feeling was wrong. There was a tall blonde woman – Dr. Jeanine Matthews – and she was always so cold. Since then, I didn't know how to heal in a healthy way, I guess… Sometimes, it is just easier to keep all in so that the only one I hurt is myself."
"So, you were some kind of guinea pig?" Nina asks. It's blunt, but her voice holds compassion.
"Sort of. They wanted to scan my brain to understand my depression. When they couldn't, they said I was the problem. They were never focused on wanting to help me heal. I think that is why I have a hard time with it all."
Bob speaks up, echoing our conversation from months ago. "You're not going to be happy all the time because no one ever is. And if they are, they are lying."
That brings a small chuckle.
"I want to learn to be okay with existing. You know, to be satisfied with content and calm and not sad. I think I could never be satisfied with just content. In my head, there is either happy or sad, and if I don't have one, I have to try to look for it. I think that is why I tend to gravitate towards trouble. And trouble finds me."
"Like New York? Or the school shooting? Or…"
"I am selfish and I am trapped and I don't know how to get myself out. Honestly, I am a coward."
"But Tris, you saved people? You are a hero."
"People like to say that what I have done is heroic, but it's not. It was just some things that I had to do. I think people like to have a hero. It makes them feel better to think that they are in the middle of all that horror, and there is someone special doing miracles. I don't have special super powers." I pause. "One thing I will take away from this: Being a hero has its price."
No one says anything, then Bob says, "Well, let's help you pay that dept."
Author's Note
I am back… sort of!
I apologize for going on a hiatus. Turns out, adulting in the real world after college is no joke… but so much fun! Since the last update, two major things have happened that have caused me to not write as much: I got not one but TWO (!) promotions at work & my boyfriend moved in.
My job is incredible and exciting, but it is called work for a reason. Even today, on a company holiday that I am writing part of this, I have made phone calls, emails and done some work.
I appreciate all of the people still out there reading – both old and new. This was something that I started about 5 ½ years ago, and it very humbling to think about who I was at the beginning and who I am now. (And it makes me reconsider making fun of the question 'Where do you see yourself in 5 Years'). The end of this journey is very close, and I hope I can share it with you soon!
Be brave, everyone.
QUOTES
1)."But look at where we are and look at where we started. I don't pretend to know the challenges you've faced. Just let me stay here by your side, and that would be enough." – Hamilton, musical
2). "We can't undo our mistakes, and we rarely forgive ourselves for them. But, it's a hazard of the trade. But, as human beings we can always try to do better. To be better. To right a wrong. Even when it feels irreversible. Of course, I'm sorry doesn't always cut it. Maybe because we use it so many different ways. As a weapon. As an excuse. But, when we are really sorry, when we use it right. When we mean it. When our actions say what words never can. When we get it right "I'm sorry" is perfect. When we get it right, "I'm sorry" is redemption." –Grey's Anatomy, television series
3). "But even when I thought I had, pieces kept emerging, like bits of wood floating up to the surface that only hinted at the shipwreck below."– Just Listen by Sarah Desson
Congratulations to: Lilmscoop, It'sHardIKnow, TrisPriorLives
There are 6 (book, television show, television show, book, book, television show) quotes in this chapter.
