The Mistake That Broke Me

Chapter Thirteen: The Examination

Song: Believer by Imagine Dragons

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Group therapy is what they called it.

Males and females of all ages, sizes, and colors gathered around in a circle and talked about their fears, their problems, their life, and more.

So you could imagine my terror when it was my turn to speak. I sat there, wide eyed, mouth agape, staring at the therapist like she was insane.

I mean, me telling random strangers what I went through, what is wrong with me, and everything in between?

Yeah, I will pass.

Only, there is no "pass" button, as I just figured out. My thumbs tumble over one another in my lap as I stare at the beady eyes looking back at me. They all want to listen. They all want to judge. They all want to feel better about themselves if they hear about a girl who is worse than them.

"Addison," The sickly sweet voice of the group therapist calls out, "Nobody is here to judge, nobody will look at you differently. Besides, talking through your issues helps, you know this by now."

And indeed I do know.

I know that talking about my problems did help. The day I told my other therapist in private about the little boy I see, it felt like a huge weight was lifted off my chest. It felt like I no longer had to deal with my problems alone and fight a battle that I was surely outnumbered in.

So, yes, therapy did help me.

But that's because it was private and personal. I only had to tell one woman whom I genuinely trusted. I wasn't sitting in a room full of insane strangers with beady, slightly empty eyes.

I told the therapist about the little boy and my nightmares about four months ago now. They think they have come up with a cure.

The diagnosis?

PTSD with psychosis.

I experience PTSD with the nightmares and the panic I feel when something triggers the crash scene and the destruction. I experience psychosis when I hallucinate and have disorganized behaviors such as speaking in unintelligible ways and making up words.

So, in other words, I'm messed up.

And now the therapist wants me to share that with the world.

They have started their treatment on me. Lots of one on one therapy sessions and medications that I've been taking to help reduce nightmares and hallucinations. They have helped my nightmares, but as for my hallucinations....I still see the child.

The doctors told me that I would need to be on the medication longer in order for it to be effective on the hallucinations, but we shall see.

"Addison, group therapy is used to help treat a lot of patients with the condition you have. In fact, most people in this room suffer from what you have. They understand." The therapist says.

I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest. I sigh, and I know I'm losing the fight right now. Whatever....

"My name is Addison, and it first started with a mistake. A mistake that broke me."

And so I told the room everything. My mouth seemed to not shut up at times as I told them about the party, the crash, the lives that were taken, and the consequences I now suffer from what happened nearly four years ago.

And I hate to admit it, but the therapist was right.

They didn't laugh nor mock me. They didn't judge me nor did they turn a blind eye to me.