Perfecting Patience

When I looked down at her, her eyes were alive with light. Her color looked as if it had returned, and her smile was bright. There was no denying it—no matter what happened in the future, no matter how many times we were built up and fell apart, we were meant to be together.

“I’ll play for you every day for the rest of our lives.”

Seventeen

Patience

Waking up in the hospital with Sydney crying over me changed me.

Maybe it was almost dying that did the trick, but I was done trying to hide my issues from people. It was obvious I needed help, and it was obvious I couldn’t fix myself.

When Zeke walked away from me, I hit a whole new low. I fell right back into my depression. My panic attacks intensified and I no longer cared about school or soccer. I quit seeing things clearly. Not that I was very clear-minded before, but it got worse when I didn’t have to hide what I was doing anymore.

I openly bought things from Phillip. I didn’t care who saw me take the pills. All I cared about was numbing the anxiety, the fear, and the pain of losing Zeke. I was starting to understand the people I’d met in Zeke’s life back in South Carolina. I could remember meeting his friends and seeing them drugged out of their minds. I remembered thinking I could never be that way. Well, I was that way now, and it all made sense to me.

I quit visiting Sydney and Aunt Sarah for dinners, and they started to call and worry. I was falling into the black and I didn’t care if I never made it out. I didn’t know who I was anymore. It was as if I went away when he did, and no matter how many times I tried to find myself, I couldn’t.

I learned a few things during my drug-induced chaos. Like the fact that I missed a lot. There were things going on around me that I had no idea about, which included school work. Apparently, I had a full conversation with Hope that I never remembered having.

The most important thing I learned was that pain pills didn’t make the hurt of losing someone you loved any better. Sure, Lortab could take away the pain of a broken finger or a broken nose, but it couldn’t take away the pain of a broken heart.

It also didn’t take away panic attacks, which is what I was trying to do when I accidently overdosed. Xanax wasn’t doing the trick anymore, and no matter how many I took, I couldn’t make the shaking and sudden fear of death go away. I was desperate, and when I opened up my medicine cabinet and found the leftover pain pills for my nose, I thought I’d give them a shot.

Thirty minutes later, I was sleepy. Forty-five minutes later, I couldn’t see straight and I was so dizzy I couldn’t make it to my phone to call someone. I couldn’t remember falling asleep, but I could remember there being so much darkness, and then there was nothing.

That’s another thing I learned. Mixing Lortab and Xanax isn’t a great idea. It took everything away, that was for sure, but I almost lost my life in the process. I’d been so careless with myself, but when I woke up and saw the tears streaming down Syd’s face, I knew I had to start caring and I had to start quick.

I signed the papers that Aunt Sarah handed me and allowed her to have me admitted into a psychiatric hospital. I let go of everything and focused on getting better. Not pretend better, not half better—I wanted to be better all the way. No more almost.

Zeke stayed at a nearby hotel and visited me every day for the first week I was there. It wasn’t until I found out that he and the boys were in the middle of recording their second record that I pushed for him to return to California.

“I’m not leaving you, babe. You’re more important than all that.”

We were snuggled up on the couch in the main room surround by other crazies like me. He was color in the boring, beige room, happiness in a depressing place. It was nice to see him every day during visiting hours, but I had to be fair. I couldn’t take up his entire life, and the guys needed him back home.

“Zeke, I’ll be fine. I’m not going anywhere. I appreciate you being here for me, but the guys need you, too. Go back to California, get the record done, and then come back. Once I’m out of here and all better, we’ll figure out how to balance everything better. I promise.”

It took another week for me to persuade him to go back to work. I loved him for being so supportive, but I understood how much he loved his music, and I was tired of taking things away from him.

I wasn’t allowed to have a phone, but he made sure to call me every day and check on me once he was all settled back in California. In his absence, Aunt Sarah and Sydney would come and visit as much as possible.

“It’s good to have you back. I missed you,” Sydney said as she hugged me when our visit was over.