“It’s time to get away from all of this,” Erick says sternly to himself. Closing the door behind him, Erick walks barefoot across the hardwood floor toward his bedroom window. Looking out the window, he sees his stretch of lawn and the barricade of oak trees blocking the sounds of his neighborhood road. He opens the window slightly to let a breeze pass over his toes and closes the curtains. To his right, nestled in a corner, is a dark green chair with a snake plant tucked behind it. Taking a side step, Erick turns himself on one foot and sits firmly in the upholstered armchair. The rest of his room is decorated in shades of green. The walls the color of ferns. Erick begins to slow his breathing and closes his eyes preparing his mind for what is to come. He feels himself slowly begin to vacate his peaceful bedroom.
What is this place? Erick thinks. An abandoned bar? It’s warm in here. Erick begins walking around. All the walls are painted candy red. The shade of red that coats candy apples when the temperature starts to drop, and time creeps closer to Halloween. The wall sconces glow like gothic, gold candelabras. Circular mirrors reflect the emptiness. Erick touches one of the walls and it is sticky with sugary mixed-drinks. Why does this place look so familiar? He looks behind him and sees a large window with decorative beveled wood molding painted the same color as the walls. Rosettes garnish the corner pieces but are almost lost among the paint. Erick walks closer to the window. Red Room Bar? I’ve been here before. I feel light-headed. Am I drunk? That’s impossible.
Holding his head, heat radiating from his forehead, Erick sits on a bar stool at the empty bar. He puts his head on his hands on the counter. Hearing something, Erick turns his face to the right. Another empty bar stool. Hmm? No, I don’t need any more to drink. I’ve had too much already. Erick feels a tug on his elbow. What do you want? Where are we going? Erick. What’s your name? Hello. Really, I need to go home. Erick pushes himself up from the bar and begins to stagger toward an archway behind him. This is for me? I really shouldn’t. I can barely walk in a straight line. Fine. Since you bought it. You are danger. Yes. You. Erick begins to laugh as he walks through the archway more stable now. His heart begins to race as he realizes the archway leads to the same empty, warm bar. Hey! We need to leave. I need to leave. Leave with you? No. I need to leave. Go home with you? No chance.
Erick walks toward the entrance and grabs the handle. It is locked. He runs to another archway, but it is the same room. A hand graces his shoulder. You look dangerous. “You didn’t say that,” Erick hears his own voice. I didn’t. Shh. It’s nothing. I’m not going home with you. “But you did.” I know. “This isn’t working. I need to go somewhere with more space,” he says out loud. He opens his eyes and finds himself sitting in his bedroom in the chair tucked away in the corner staring at the walls panting but relieved.
“You’re okay,” he assures himself as he squeezes the arms of his chair and settles his feet on the floor. “You can do it again. Remember. Space,” Erick calms himself. Breathes deeply for a moment to slow his pounding heart. The blood coursing through him gradually decreases with each breath. His pulse regulates and his carotid artery no longer feels like it is going to burst through his neck. Erick closes his eyes and thinks, More space.
Now this is space. What is this? A jungle? Erick stands in place and looks at his surroundings. Everywhere he looks is lush flora. Strange looking plants he has never seen before with orange, rubbery looking flowers; enormous ferns; and thick-barked trees with vines and moss. On his right is a large open cabin. To the left of that is a fishing dock over a green but clear creek. Everything is so green and beautiful. I can barely see the sky through the canopy of trees. I’m jumping off that dock. It’s hot. The air is sticky. I’m going in. As Erick swims in the creek, he becomes more interested in the cabin. I wonder what’s in there. He climbs out of the creek and sees an iguana swim behind him. I got out of there just in time. What if it tried to grab onto me with those sharp nails? Erick shudders at the thought as he walks toward the cabin.
Climbing the broad steps, Erick sees the cabin is bigger inside than it looks. There is a kitchen, a large table with many chairs around it in the middle of the room, and two bathrooms. I want to look at myself. Maybe I look different in the jungle. Those bathrooms must have mirrors. Erick walks to one of the bathrooms and looks in the mirror. I look the same. Same blond hair, brown eyes, and cheek bones that can cut diamonds. Twenty-seven and looking good. Wait. My hair is dry. I’m dry. What? Who is that? Get my stuff. What stuff? Erick turns around and sees a thick, long snake that seems to go on forever. He stands still. My clothes? Throw them away. Donate them. I don’t need to see you. You have more to tell me? Tell me now. Why do you need to tell me in person? Alright. I’ll be right over. Tell me. I need to change? Indecisive? No opinions? I can change. “Stop,” Erick’s voice comes through. The snake slithers away into a tree. We can live together! “You didn’t say that.” He turned his back and went inside. “You drove home,” Erick hears his voice say. Will you shut up and let me be? “Open your eyes.”
Erick opens his eyes still in his chair. “I’m doing it again. I’m doing something wrong. I think I’m taking too long in between,” Erick practically shouts into his empty bedroom. He grips his chair, takes a breath, and closes his eyes.
No. I know exactly where I am. It’s hot. Summer. The wind is warm. There’s the lake. I’m under a willow tree. The sky is cloudless. The sun is relentless. The huge, beautiful willow tree is the only place to get some shade and much needed relief from the heat. The only place aside from the enormous lake’s cool water. Looking at the lake is like looking at the sun. Without any cloud coverage at this time of day the lake is a mirror for the sun. It is difficult to see past the blinding lake, but on the other side is a mountain range. If you stand at the lake’s edge, it is quite picturesque. The grounds have been tended to. The grass is mown into lines and other trees have been cut down as not to take away from the beauty of the willow. There are tree stumps near Erick. Small stones.
Oh. A silhouette near the lake. It looks like a man. No one is around. It’s hot. I’m going swimming. Erick begins to run toward the lake but trips over a tree stump. What do you mean? We’re moving together in two weeks. He gets back up and trips over a small rock. You’re moving alone? Erick stands again and begins running but gets tangled in a willow vine. I’m too young? I’m not too young. I’m more accomplished than you and you’re jealous. “You know you …” Shut up and let me have this. You’re a waiter and I’m in graduate school. Erick struggles with the vine as the silhouette fades. He begins to cry, and rain pours from the sky.
He opens his eyes and tears are welled in them. Erick walks to the living room and lies down on the couch pushing his back against the cushions. “Why are you messing with me after all these years?” Erick wipes tears from his eyes. He lies there for a while before realizing he has an appointment. “No. What time is it? I have time. What am I wearing? Presentable. Eye drops. Shoes. Go,” Erick says and then gets in his car. “I should just say it all at once and then let her respond,” he says thinking about his appointment. “She’ll greet me, I’ll nod, sit on the couch, and let it spill.”
“Erick. So good to see you. Have a seat. How are you today?” his therapist asks unknowingly.
“I’m stuck in this pattern of thoughts,” Erick says to his therapist as he sits on the cold faux-leather couch across from her. The room is large with white walls. There are some pictures hanging on the walls of black and white landscapes. A sturdy wooden desk takes up some space, potted plants are placed in corners of the room, and on a small table with an amber-colored glass lamp. “I’ve been trying everything we’ve talked about to break loose from these repeating what-if scenarios. What if I said this? Would it have changed the outcome? Rationally I know nothing would have changed, but I keep reliving the situations and continuing conversations that never happened. They’re all I think about. I can’t get them to stop. My ex reached out to me this week after years. Years. He texted me wanting to know how I’m doing. I didn’t respond. Now I’m in a whirlwind of obsessive thoughts.”
“What did you do that didn’t work?” she inquires with empathy.
“My go-to. I wanted to escape. I used visualization,” he says off-handed. “It was different this time. I had almost no control over where my mind was taking me, and I could move around. Usually I can imagine and feel sensory information about where I’m visualizing, but this time I could explore the entire area. In every location I could hear his voice and feel him. Then the conversations came in my thoughts. Parts of them happened. The rest, my anxiety thoughts took over, and I thought things I wish I said. I heard my voice checking every thought that wasn’t real. I was combining techniques, but without control.” I shouldn’t give more details, he thought, I need her help to find a solution.
“That is concerning how you felt you didn’t have control using a tool you are very skilled with. Have you tried taking your anxiety medication?” she asks.
Erick stares at the floor.
“Are you thinking?” she pushes for an answer. “I know you haven’t used this medication in months but try not to think of it as a crutch. We both know you have a strong and capable mind without the medication. Think of it as giving yourself a break. It could help you with your other techniques. Everything you have learned you have become adept at using. I also suggest making use of your journal so you can see your thoughts and patterns. Use your analytic mind.”
“I will try both,” Erick half smiles.
“Is there anything else you want to discuss today?” she asks.
“I want to see you next week,” Erick says emphatically.
“Of course. You will get through this. It’s one of life’s bumps,” she smiles.
Erick stands up and says, “I will see you next week, Anne.” He walks to the street, sits in his car for a few minutes, and drives home in silence. Pulling into his driveway, he parks his car. Erick runs inside to his bookshelf and searches for his journal. After finding it, he scurries to the desk in his room with his shoes on to grab his pen, and leaps onto his bed. He begins to write, It’s been a while, Journal. Listen to this shit.