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Wednesday, June 15, 2011


She was used to feeling nothing.

Well, at least she was used to pushing her feelings aside and pretending she felt nothing. This time was different. She was angry. That was scary.

Because she had no idea what else to do, she did the easiest thing-what was expected of her.

She drove him there anyway.

If anything she was dependable. Not the most romantic word, but then again, this wasn't exactly the most romantic relationship. She knew there was no one else to drive him, and no time to figure that out. She's made it through the last two years, she could make it through a silent car ride to drop him off at rehab.

After that? She had no clue.

The car ride was a cold and bitter silence. He made no empty apologies, no promises. He would open his mouth to speak and no words would come. He knew it was pointless. She pretended she didn't notice. It was as if he could tell something was different. Not only did that scare her, she wondered if it scared him too.

She kept her hands on the wheel and her eyes on the road. She could feel him breathing next to her, but she tried to ignore his presence. Her heart was beating so fast, she was afraid he could feel it too.

Her mind drifted with the hum of the tires on the pavement.

She wondered if going away like this would help him change.

She replayed all of his usual promises in her head. He would be telling her he was sorry, that he screwed up, how he would make things different for them, how he would change...

It offered comfort to have this silent role play with herself. That's what she would usually be doing on a morning like this-listening to him lie. Again.

She wondered if he was replaying those lies in his head. He probably was, and worse, he probably believed them too.

Perhaps he was thinking about her in his passenger side silence?

Perhaps he was thinking about the girl he was with the night before?

She didn't tell him good-bye when she left him standing in the lobby.

It felt good to leave him standing there watching her walk away. Letting him wonder what she would be doing, where she would be going, who she would be with. For once, the tables were turned.

In that moment she couldn't help but think it was too bad it took him being "locked up" to appreciate her.

He would be there for thirty days. She felt an overwhelming sense of freedom in that.

This relationship that had no boundaries, no commitments, no promises had been more constant than anything else in her life for so long. How does something so abstract become so concrete?

It was a like a bad routine. This relationship was something she did every day. Something she put her energy into. Something she did without thinking. Something wasn't healthy for her. Something she had to stop.

Thirty days to sort through her feelings. Thirty days to think. Thirty days to spend time with her friends. Thirty days she wouldn't have to wonder if he was sleeping with someone else.

Thirty days of her own rehab.

Thirty days to find something she lost.



I'm linked up for my free dose of weekly therapy with Shell at Things I Can't Say. She has a Pour Your Heart Out meme every Wednesday. My favorite bloggy day! Thanks for a great link, Shell!

If you want to read the first post you can find it here:
1. Exhale

Sometimes I get the nerve to write about my past. Today was one of those days. I write in third person because it's easier that way. I do not know this girl anymore.



At June 15, 2011 at 10:57 AM , Blogger Lisa said...

Wow. Amazingly written. And you are stronger for it.

At June 15, 2011 at 10:57 AM , Blogger Lisa said...

This comment has been removed by the author.

At June 15, 2011 at 11:39 AM , Blogger Shell said...

You KNOW I totally relate to writing in the third person when talking about the past.

You were so strong.

At June 15, 2011 at 1:24 PM , Blogger Renee said...

In a slightly different version, I was that girl. She's made me who I am today.

Beautifully written.

At June 15, 2011 at 7:52 PM , Blogger Tara R. said...

Third person or not, this was brave. A poignant and touching recounting.

At June 15, 2011 at 9:24 PM , Blogger becca said...

beautifully written powerful, intense, and real

Everyday Life

At June 15, 2011 at 9:25 PM , Blogger What Now????? said...

Your words are so powerful...I feel like I am right there with you.

At June 15, 2011 at 9:45 PM , Blogger Sorta Southern Single Mom said...

Such a poignant perspective. Thank you for sharing.

At June 16, 2011 at 7:53 AM , Blogger Christine Siracusa said...

Very touching, moving, real and I think the third person thing may strengthen it's impact. I wasn't thinking 'oh wow this really happened to her' I was just along for the ride. I also connect bc addiction has played an on and off role in my life and I have felt so many of the things you describe.

At June 16, 2011 at 9:58 AM , Blogger The Woven Moments said...

Very powerful.

Owning my past has been the key to being comfortable in my own skin today.

Kudos to you for embracing your history! (herstory?)

At June 16, 2011 at 11:25 AM , Blogger Joy Taylor said...

that was an amazing story and you are such a talented writer.

At June 16, 2011 at 2:45 PM , Blogger Peeper said...

I'm hooked. And I relate to that girl you aren't anymore. Good for you.

(please write a book if you aren't already. I'm off to check out more of your blog!)

At June 16, 2011 at 4:30 PM , Blogger More Milestones said...

I think all those bad relationships / expirences make us stonger. They help us know what we will and will NOT put up with.

You are a stonger person. Thanks for sharing.

~ Mona

At June 20, 2011 at 6:58 AM , Blogger Anastasia said...

I love how you viewed it as your own rehab. Very well written.


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