Happy Holidays From Rehab

Thanks to Thought Catalog for publishing! Happy Holidays Everyone- and this year, not from rehab.

Thought Catalog

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Your alarm’s going off – it’s 5:30am.

Actually, that’s a lie. Despite going over the rehab “list of essentials” with your mother (which laughably do not include shaving kits and mouth wash–apparently in the case that you try to drink yourself to death), you have forgotten to bring a clock.

So no. It’s not your alarm. Your roommate’s alarm, however, is going off and you are nestled in your twin-sized bed under the hideous Floral Comforter attempting to wield yourself into the first nonsexual human pretzel ever performed.

Maybe the nurses will forget, you hope. Sometimes they do.  You move the comforter up over your head so that when one of them comes knocking for vitals, maybe she’ll mistaken your lump of a frame for a pillow. (And yes, you do think of that scene in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off… Every.Time.)

Your roommate wrestles from one side to the other–…

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11 Truths About That ‘One Time In Rehab’ Year 1- Where Are You Now?

One Year.

Year One.

Where are you now?

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Where am I now?

What a complicated question that poses.

Let me start off by saying that not a day goes by that I don’t think of my experience in rehab.

The crappy food- the stiff beds- the 5am wake up calls- not even the unshaven legs. (I’ve actually made a fairly terrible habit of that since…. much to the dismay of my partner)

One year later- and I sit here thinking how quite often that time period can change on a whim for me- from feeling so near- to coincidentally so far.

How are those girls? I get asked. Do you keep in touch with them?

Sometimes, I say.

Because sometimes, I do- and sometimes, I don’t.

Different ages, different backgrounds- together we felt so very close- sitting in those god awful strained therapy rooms. Our feet tucked under us- notebooks out and on our laps.

So close in the times we were forced to make “sand stress balls,” forced to count from 1-100 when we went to the restroom.

Close in the times we cried over a donut- laughed on the ground playing bananagram- laid on the couches.

Watched as our parents came and went. As Christmas and New Years passed quietly.

Sometimes, I can still feel Lilly’s head in my lap- braiding her hair like I did my friends in middle school.

Other times memories of it all come to me innocuously- on a plane coming back from Thanksgiving, a note falling out of a book.

“I’ll miss you always Linds. Come visit me when you’re out.”

Kenzie’s pink gel pen sparkling off the paper.

A year later, I still wish sometimes that I could go back to that place-

To the floral comforters, the narrow halls, the community room we always had to leave Jacy in because she wasn’t allowed to walk around with the rest of us.

A year later–

I didn’t know I’d look back at in this light-

But I do.

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