We cannot Say that We didn't See

Two days later, I took another pill. Halfway through the fourth day, I took two. On the seventh day, I needed the second strip, so I had to start the third and last one. Then, for a split second, I thought: what will I do when I don’t have the pills to help me sleep? Will I need to try something stronger? I decided to take three that night to stop thinking about it, then two in the morning, even though I was supposed to go to work. At work, I felt normal, but my stomach hurt and I felt like I needed to throw up. I made it to the bathroom just in time and threw up. I could see the pills from that morning. When I rinsed my mouth in front of the mirror, my nose started to bleed. I was scared and disappointed. I emptied the last three pills into the toilet and flushed. The next day, I had a call with my therapist, and we talked about it. Knowing the full story of my childhood and my adult life, he told me clearly that at almost thirty, it didn’t make sense for me to start an addiction, because I had survived. I had overcome. So, moving forward, instead of only talking about the bad things that had happened, we would also focus on the good things happening in my life: my work, my friends, the guy I was dating, the last event I went to. I still declined the antidepressants. Instead, I started taking care of myself more naturally: orange juice, swimming, going to the beach, watching a Christmas movie in summer, quitting coffee and drinking more tea, more physical activity to be more exhausted at night. It took a few weeks. It took time, but it worked.