MDMA

2

The next few days were spent in a haze. Almost as if I was living in the static screen of an antenna television. Things happened so fast around me, and I couldn’t keep up. Being physically present in the world, but absent minded to what’s happening. I craved connection, but getting a reply out of me was next to impossible. The television would be on just as a form of background noise to my empty yet racing thoughts. It all may seem very confusing, unless you’ve lived through it yourself. If you have, then you know that this feeling doesn’t last forever. Eventually you numb everything, and it is safe to engage in the world again.

One day I woke up just the same as the days before. Shuffled through my morning routine, which consisted of taking Ember out, the usual hygiene tasks, and taking my place on the couch to spend another day staring at the show I wasn’t watching. My mindless TV watching was interrupted by a knock on my door. I checked my phone to see if anyone had announced their arrival, which no one did. Confused, I got up from the couch and started to get Ember situated in her kennel. She was just as startled as I about our unexpected visitor. I, then, checked through the peephole. My best friend was just standing there, smiling. I found the corners of my mouth twitching up for the first time in days.

“Goood morning Ab!” exclaimed the petite woman as I opened the door. She had two hot coffees in her hands, and a smile that could pierce through the toughest of walls.

“Good morning Kav. What are you doing here?” I asked. “Not that I don’t love the surprise!”

“I was just getting my usual chai latte, when something told me to get you one too and bring it to you! That and you’ve been super off lately.” She explained as she took off her coat and greeted Ember.

“Oh yeah, that. Hey, are you hungry? I was just about to make my potatoes and egg breakfast.” I tried to steer her attention away, but the pause she made as she took off her coat told me that my efforts did not go unnoticed. I turned towards the kitchen as if I didn’t notice, and grabbed two potatoes from the cabinet.

“As I was saying,” she chimed from the living room, “You’ve been off lately.” Chop! The knife hit the cutting board with ease. “Wanna tell me what that’s about?” Her voice came from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see her standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Her arms folded and one of her feet slightly more forward than the other. She wasn’t going to let up. Why would she? She’s my best friend.

“Just my last therapy session.” I sighed. “I just feel like I’m wasting time. I get she’s the professional, but there’s a part of me that feels like what we’re doing is holding me back.”

“See that’s why I won’t go to therapy. If I don’t want to talk about things, I won’t talk about them. Point blank.” she clapped her hands at Ember, which sent her into a series of excited jumps.

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it… you know better than anyone else that I will bring it up if conversation asks. I just… I don’t know. I’m over it.”

“And that’s okay Ab.” I smiled at her words. Usually I am the one reminding her that however she feels is okay.

“You know Kav, we’ve come full circle.”

“I was just thinking the same thing! Look at me. Being all smart and shit with these one liners.” She turned to go back into the living room as I threw the potatoes in the pan. For the first time since my session, I was able to form actual thoughts about what I was experiencing. The unfinished thoughts that zoomed around my mind in different directions, have all accumulated into a single stream.

“Kavana?” I called out.

“Yes?”

“Can I rant?” Her head popped from around the corner. “I thought you’d never ask!” She flopped down on the floor, and was met by an excited Ember. I laughed at the scene, but then got back into my thinking space.

“I understand why talking about trauma is a part of the healing process, but when does that part end? Does it end? I’ve been retelling the same stories over and over again. Whether people asked or not. Now I just want to… move on.” I said as I pushed the air in front of me with the spatula. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it anymore because it has some control over me. It’s just that I don’t want to talk about it anymore because it’s holding me back.”

“You feel like a broken record.” Kavana added.

“Exactly! And as much as that record has shaped me, it’s time to throw it away and put something new on.”

“Something fun!” She snapped her fingers as she grooved to the imaginary music.