Only So Many Times

I can’t stop moving. My body wont let me. My hands grip the bed covers as my legs do a pedaling type movement. I’m freezing yet sweat has covered most of the sheets. My eyes are closed and I see things. Terrible things. Call them demons, monsters, whatever sick, strange, unimaginable things, I see them. Can’t very much keep my eyes open as I’m so very dizzy. My head is light and I feel I am on the cusp of a seizure. Never had one before. By the grace of God only, I would imagine. I’m moaning and repeating ‘’No….please God, no. Make it go away”. It will be sometime until that happens and I’m well aware of that, unfortunately. Saying it out loud makes me feel a little better. I’m in for a ride, and not a good one. I can only hope that its quick. As quick as can be at least. I know what to expect. If I do fall asleep I know what awaits me. The nightmares. The sleep paralysis. I’ve had them before but their exacerbated when this happens. These withdrawals will kill me one day. The Lord will spare me only so many times. And I do believe this may be the last.

48 exhausting and terrifying hours later, he was able to throw his legs over the side of the bed. No food had entered his body and what liquids that were consumed didn’t stay consumed for too long. His legs were wobbling. Weak from not being mobile. As the hours passed and his mind began to clear, he thought. That’s all he could do. He thought of the feelings, the torture that he put himself through. Telling himself over and over and over again that this was no way to live life. He wasn’t always like this. He used to smile. Used to enjoy himself. He laughed and he was full of life. ‘’Where did I go wrong?” he says to himself.

Making his way to the balcony window and looking outside he saw the snow fall. Light, but constant. Gray clouds covered the sky. A beautiful sight. Turning, he walks into his library. His bookshelf is filled with so many memories. Stories that he used to get lost in. A faint smile comes across his face.

The living room. Art on the walls and so many things collected and given to him. Gifts and items from his mother and his father. His friends. Collectibles of all sorts are scattered on various shelves and desks throughout. So many years spent enjoying what his apartment is filled with. He loves them.

Mustering up all of the strength he has, he was able to shower and dress himself. A copy of ‘’The Lord of the Rings’’ sits on his bedside table. His favorite. Grabbing it and walking into the kitchen, he reaches for his keys, opens, and locks the door behind him. Leaving the pain and suffering of the past couple days behind.

The park wasn’t far. The drive would be difficult nonetheless. Tunnel vision was a prominent symptom of the withdrawals. He would make it. He was hell bent on doing so. No music. Silence was needed. To think. To clear. To just be.

He pulled off into the parking lot. A massive snow covered field with trees lining the perimeter. A steep hill with the parks trails intertwined over it in the distance. Knowing exactly the spot he wanted to go to, his trek began. It would take a while granted his current state, but he needed to make it. Eyes forward, looking all around. Admiring the beauty. The wind was picking up, making the frosted trees sway back and forth, creating an even more calming emotion for him. He crossed the field and entered the trail head. Snow freezing over on the ground, a slight crunch with every step he took was all he could hear. More clarity with each passing minute.

An old, weathered bridge crossed the creek after descending for a few minutes. How many people have crossed this in days past? How many feelings and emotions have taken place in this very spot? Were there lost and broken souls standing right where he was at some point? Happiness and optimism? A simple admiration for the scenery. A proposal. A book being read. A story being written. Who would know. It could be a “simple” place to some. It could be a magical place to others. That’s the beauty of where he was. It was what him, and others, chose to make it.

Not far passed the bridge, a narrow trail climbed up a brush laden hill to a cleared out area. Stone, amphitheater style seating rows occupied this space. He sat. Eyes up to the sky. A deep breathe in as his eyelids slowly shut, feeling the flakes land softly on his face. Emptying his mind of the negative, off what he had done to himself. Awareness. Only of where he was and what was around him. Silence lay heavy over where he was. Peace. He looked down at his book and flipped the cover open. Page 1. Starting fresh. It was never too late to do that.

Some hours later the snow had subsided and he finished up his reading. He took his time heading back on the trail through the woods, over the bridge. Soaking up his surroundings as he did. Every wonderful sight. Crossing the field once more he arrived at his car, ready to open the door, he paused and looked up. One more glance at the trees. At the snow. It was so simple a thing. A park in the winter time and a walk through the woods. A couple hours of his favorite book. By this time the previous hours had all but left his mind and he felt renewed. This strengthened him.

He put the key in the lock and opened his front door to a place that he loved, and one that he has taken for granted for far too long. He walked over to the couch and sat, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. This was it. He would no longer carry on the way that he was. There was happiness all around him. His family, his books, his reading chair, food on the table and clothes to wear. These realizations stemming from a simple walk in the park. This was life. Surrounded by the most beautiful things. He wanted to live. To make the most out of everyday. And he would. He would.