I walk into David’s office two minutes to the hour for my last individual therapy session. Early as always, I think to myself. Something that has never changed with me is that I take pride in being on time and being respectful of other’s time. I guess there are some things ingrained in a person that can never really be conquered. I know that addiction won’t be one of them. I take a seat in the chair I always sit in and cross my legs, patiently waiting for him to acknowledge me.
“Lindsay.” He smiles at me, looking up from his notepad.
“Hey, David,” I greet him in response.
“So it’s our last day together.”
“It is.”
“How are you feeling?”
“About?” I inquire.
“Everything. Leaving, your treatment, your plans. Do you have any new anxieties since we spoke yesterday?”
I smile and don’t hesitate like I normally do before answering. “I don’t. For the first time in a long time, I’m totally fine with not having a plan. I’m going to go home and work on some things I’ve been journaling about. I’m going to help my brother and sister-in-law with their wedding, and I’m going to travel a little bit.” He smiles at me.
“Here is the name of the therapist I’ve referred you to in Wilmington. She’s a phenomenal doctor and great friend. You’ll be in excellent care with her.” I take the business card he hands to me and set it in my lap.
“I do have one last question for you, David. Is it possible to forgive yourself for hurting others, even if they don’t forgive you? I mean, sometimes you hurt people so badly they can’t find it within themselves to forgive you. Is it possible to forgive yourself for the hurt you’ve caused when they won’t let it go?”
He thinks tentatively. “Lindsay, that’s a deep question, but the answer is yes. You can’t control anyone else’s feelings, emotions, or thoughts. You can only control your behavior and your actions. If you do your best to make amends with someone and they choose to not forgive, that should not inhibit your own self-forgiveness.”
I take in what David is saying and smile. “Does that make sense?” he asks.
“It does. I just think that this will be the hardest thing for me to accept.”
“That others won’t forgive you?”
I nod my head. “Yeah. Some of the damage I’ve done is pretty unforgiveable.”
“Lindsay, there is nothing, and I mean nothing, that is unforgivable.”
“Thanks, David.”
I glance at the business card he gave me while he shuffles a few more papers around. “Here are follow-up instructions and information for your nutritionist. Please schedule an appointment with your physician at home as well.”
“I will.”
“Lindsay,” he says quietly, setting his notebook down on his wood desk. “I never want to tell a person it was great having them here, because I know the journey that got you here was devastating. But you have so much promise. I know you will be successful in this recovery and I have so much faith in you.” He leans back in his large, leather desk chair and pulls the wire-framed glasses from his face. “I want you to believe that too.”
I take a deep, cleansing breath and feel a smile spread across my face. “I think I actually do believe that. Thank you for everything.”
“You have my email. Keep in touch. I’d love to hear how you’re doing.”
I push myself up from my chair and leave David’s office with a sense of hope. Gathering my final belongings, I wheel my suitcase down the hall to the main reception desk where Landon is waiting for me, leaning against a wall while talking on his phone. He hangs up quickly and rushes over to help me with my bag while I sign out of the treatment facility.
The late summer air still hangs with humidity, but it doesn’t feel heavy. I no longer feel weighed down. “Ready?” he asks, lifting my suitcase into the back of his car.
“Ready!”
We arrive home to an empty house. Reagan is at the hospital, delivering a baby, and the house is quiet. I spend several hours doing laundry and getting settled back into my brother’s house. Landon insisted that I stay with them until I figure out what I’m doing or where I’m going to land permanently. Money isn’t an issue. I have more money than I know what to do with sitting in a trust fund from when my father was killed. Landon gave me his portion—I guess that was his way of finally freeing himself of anything related to our father. I believe Landon wants me here at his house so that he can watch over me to make sure my recovery stays on track.#p#分页标题#e#