Riding Into Recovery
<p>Two weeks after getting out, I returned to the psych hospital, for the second time, to see Dr. Goodman for my weekly check-in. It was a breezy Friday afternoon, and I was in the passenger seat of Alex’s car.</p>
<p>“I’m so proud that you’re two weeks hospital-free, my love. And I have a special surprise planned for us for this evening to celebrate.”</p>
<p>His comforting voice filled me with a warmth that felt like magic, melting away my self-doubt. I smiled and locked my hands with his. Looking into his eyes, I realized how lucky I was that I’d found such an honest, gentle soul to spend my life with. If every woman had a man like him, the world would be a much better place. When I was around him, I felt <em>free</em> enough to let go of all the things the world wanted me to be, and <em>light</em> enough to rise out of the mountains of expectations threatening to bury me. Knowing he’d be waiting for me with open arms (and another of his romantic surprises) after my appointment made the prospect of walking through those sickly familiar revolving doors far less scary. If only it could also help with the guilt that plagued me.</p>
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