I could either wallow or whine about life not being fair or I could suck it up and find something else to live for. And maybe, for once, it should be for myself.

A bunch of our friends called out greetings as Maria and I entered the common room. This was good. This was what I needed. I wrapped an arm around Maria and gave her a quick squeeze before letting her go.

She looked up at me smiled. “I think you could use some leftover birthday cake,” she said seriously and then laughed when Tyler and Greg piped up stating that they wanted their own slices. Looking around the room, I was happy with this tiny bit of life I had carved out for myself at Grayson. I just wish I could take this with me when I left.

Because I wasn’t so sure the life I had waiting for me on the outside was one that I wanted.

***

“So you cut again,” Dr. Todd said, steepling his fingers under his chin. It was the day after my birthday and I had come clean with my therapist. I had thought seriously about not telling him. About keeping it my little, nasty secret.

But then I would be backsliding even more. And last night was all about revelations. And I was through with sabotaging myself. Even as I had thought I was getting better, my ugly subconscious was lying in wait to f**k it all to hell. So I was taking this bitch by the horns and dealing with it.

I laced my fingers behind my neck and leaned back on the leather couch in Doc’s office. “Yep. I did. And it felt good for about thirty seconds and then…” I trailed off, pulling my hands apart so I would stop stroking the scabbed cut with my thumb.

“Then…” Dr. Todd prompted. I blew out a breath, and pushed my hair out of my face. I forced myself to make eye contact with the man who waited expectantly for my answer. There was no judgment there, no disappointment that I had relapsed. Only patience and understanding. Damn this guy was good.

“And then I felt horrible about it. Mad at myself, you know?” I started to bounce my knees up and down. I was agitated and edgy. I had already gnawed the skin off around my fingers and had begun to pick at the hole in my jeans.

“Good,” Dr. Todd said forcefully. I blinked at him in surprise. Huh? Had he just said it was good that I felt like shit? That didn’t seem right.

“Excuse me?” I said a little angrily. Dr. Todd leaned forward, his eyes intense as he looked at me.

“I said good. I’m glad you felt like crap. That you were mad at yourself.” I opened my mouth to say something that would have definitely been dickish but Dr. Todd kept going. “Because if you’re feeling horrible about it, then you’re not feeling good because you did it. Yes, you felt the euphoria at first, but the fact that you started to feel the shame and guilt afterward proves that you are starting to rework the way your brain responds to the pain. That it’s not the escape it used to be. You’ve reframed your feelings about cutting and that’s a huge step, Clay.” Dr. Todd smiled and I sat there sort of dumb struck.

“But it doesn’t change the fact that I cut. That I felt like cutting after talking to…” I stopped, realizing that I had yet to come clean about my late night phone call last night.

Dr. Todd narrowed his eyes. “You called Maggie,” he stated. I nodded. No sense in denying it. So I waited for the expected chastising. The millions of reasons why it was a bad idea to contact her. If she drives me to cut, I wasn’t ready to communicate with her yet. Blah, blah, blah.

But damned if the good doc didn’t surprise me once again.

“I’m glad.” My mouth dropped open. I was extremely confused by this turn in things. Dr. Todd chuckled at my reaction. “I’m not going to berate you, Clay. I think you need to learn to face obstacles, not avoid them. You’ve been dealing with a lot of complicated emotions when it comes to Maggie. And for the first time, I feel like you’re really taking charge of your life. You’re finding your control.”

“Uh, but I cut myself afterwards. Isn’t that…I don’t know, counterproductive or something?” I was looking for the punch line. The “Just kidding, you’re a royal screw up.” But it didn’t come.

Dr. Todd picked up his notepad and pen and started writing. “Yes, you did. And you had a right to feel the anger, the hurt, the pain. Those emotions are okay because they’re yours. You don’t have to explain to anyone, let alone me, why you feel the way you do. And you met those feelings head on, Clay. In the past you attempted to avoid any and all situations that elicited a strong emotional response from you. But you went head first into something that you knew would be hard for you. That takes courage. And you should be proud of the fact that you fought hard to not let your fear stop you from doing something you knew that you needed to do.” Dr. Todd put the pen down and looked at me again. “It’s important for you to try and not focus on the act of cutting, instead look at the way you were feeling. Identify the triggers and figure out an alternate response. Let’s review your self-harm plan and see if there’s anything you could change or add.”

We spent the next ten minutes going over the plan we had devised together in my first week of treatment. It outlined ways for me to cope that didn’t involve self-harming behaviors. Okay, so I had been a bit of a shit when I had first written it. Because there was no way in hell I’d “pick flowers” or “hum a Mamas and Papas song.” I was also pretty sure that Dr. Todd knew I had been mocking the whole process when we had compiled the list. Because he wouldn’t let me take things away, only add to it. It was damn embarrassing to see some of the crap I had put down because I was being an oppositional jack ass. But I guess that was the reason I couldn’t remove them. Touché Dr. Todd. Touché.