As I sit here in astronomy lab revived and happy, it’s tough to stay focused on my assignment. My mind easily tempts me with a vivid play-by-play of my planetarium tryst with Kipton. Squirming around on my chair, I can’t dull the ache inside of me.
As I continue to estimate star locations in the sky, a piece of paper lands on my notebook. Quickly snatching it before the professor notices, I smile as soon as I read the words. Apparently, we’re on the same wavelength.
Wanna go make a new memory in the planetarium?
Giggling, I look up and find Kipton gazing over his shoulder. He winks and my stomach flutters in response with hyper butterflies ready to take flight. Mouthing the words, behave, I jump when I realize Oliver is taking in our entire exchange. “Boyfriend amusing you?” He asks, with his glasses balancing on the tip of his nose. I have the urge to push them back up on his face so they don’t fall off, but he eventually stops staring at me long enough to adjust them on his own.
“Um, yeah. Sorry.”
“That’s a shame.”
As I erase a mistake on my paper, I whisper, “Why’s that a shame?”
“Because I have a lot to offer a lady, too. When you requested to be my partner I figured you were hot for me. I’ve noticed you sneaking glances at me during class.”
Snorting, I stifle my laughter with a couple of coughs. Kipton turns around to make sure I’m okay. I give him the thumbs up and he shakes his head before going back to work. His lab partner spends most of the class popping bubbles and twirling her hair. Kipton says she smells like a mixture of cotton candy and cat urine. The thought of him animatedly describing her to me has me laughing all over again. I rest my head on the table as my shoulders shake. We’re dismissed during my laughter fit, but I can’t stop laughing. “What are you doing, beautiful?”
I lift my head to see everyone filing out of the classroom. “Sorry. I’m good.”
“Don’t apologize, I could watch you laugh all day. But Oliver ran out of here like the place was on fire.”
“He thinks I want him.”
Kipton chuckles and tucks my notebook inside my bag for me. “Poor guy.”
He and I walk hand in hand back to my dorm. I tighten my sweater around my middle, the fall weather’s been intensifying the closer we get to the holiday break. He pulls me close to his body to shield me from the wind while my hair whips around my face like I’m stuck in a tornado. I insisted we walk to class today, but I’m wishing we could hop into Kipton’s warm car instead. I also don’t miss the fact that he hasn’t said a word to me since we left class. “You’re quiet Kipton, what’s up?” I don’t like quiet, it makes me anxious.
At first he doesn’t answer, but then changes his mind. “I didn’t want to pry, but how have your sessions been going? You haven’t said a word about them since you started.”
“They’re okay. Michelle is nice. She’s easier to talk to than my therapist back home.”
As promised, I’ve been seeing a counselor on campus. Being diagnosed as a depressive bulimic was hard the first time, but hearing it from Michelle put a whole new spin on how out of touch I’ve been with reality and my body. I may have thought I was recovered before I came to Alabama, but it never really goes away—I’ll always have the compulsions inside of me.
It’s helped to sort through my past, turning every tiny detail into a valid observation of what led me down this path in the first place. Eventually we started relating it to my present by working through the years I’ve been depressed. It was clear to see how anxiety driven I really am. There are very few things I don’t fear. Between the mental mind fucks and the physical abuse, I’ve used purging as a crutch to simply survive.
Despite the progress I’ve made, I still have the desire to purge when I’m stressed out, or hit with a nightmare in the middle of the night. But each time I’m tempted, I’m supposed to grab my journal and write out my thought process. And not an overview, she wants every single detail.
At first I was hesitant because my words were all over the place. When I’m having an anxiety attack or refraining from a purge, I don’t operate in complete sentences. My thoughts are incredibly negative, self-depreciating, and dark. They hurt to write as much as they tear me up to read after the fact.
I wouldn’t ever read them if I wasn’t forced to at the beginning of each session. There’s no small talk in therapy. Instead, Michelle makes me read each new journal entry aloud. Painstakingly, I go over each line and figure out why I felt that way and how I can process it as a lesson instead of beating myself up about it. At first I was frustrated because despite reading and taking feedback from the entries, I was still repeating some of the same thoughts and mistakes over and over. It became impossible to believe I’d ever be able to break the addiction. And that’s exactly what it is. The highs and lows that go along with a purge are hard to stop craving.
Convinced the therapy exercise wasn’t working for me, I was ready to give up. But patterns aren’t easy to break and neither is addiction. So while I’d love to be able to say I’ve refrained from purging, I can’t. It’s still as much a part of me as before, even if the frequency has lessened. With Michelle’s help, I’m more aware of my negative thought process and maybe even a few of the triggers. I definitely won’t be cured overnight and have a lot of deep rooted issues in regards to my childhood to sort through. I was never given a chance to fully grow into the adult I am now. But with time and a lot more patience, it can only get better. I think.
Kipton squeezes my hand. “I’m proud of you, Sophie. It takes strength to face your demons the way you are.” He pulls our joined hands to his lips and kisses the back of my hand. “I don’t expect you to be perfect though. I know you’re still struggling.”
“Thank you for saying that. I’m trying to be what you need.” We increase our pace slightly, both anxious to get out of the cold.
“You already are what I need, Sophie. That will never change.”
I don’t know how I got so lucky to find Kipton, but it’s moments like these I thank my lucky stars for him being able to see beyond my imperfections enough to really love me—the way I always dreamed but never knew existed.
Usually we take a short nap after class, but today Cara’s extra chatty while she waits for Drew. “So what’s the plan for Thanksgiving break? The dorms close Tuesday and we don’t have to be back for almost a week.”
Considering I have very little to go home to other than a lame pizza tradition, I don’t jump to answer her question. My mom and I usually order take-out and watch movies on the couch. I haven’t had a turkey dinner with all the fixings since I was ten. I’m looking forward to seeing her, but I know it won’t be good for me to be back in the house. There’s so many painful memories lurking in that house.
“Hey.” Kipton nudges me with his arm.
“Sorry, what were you saying?”
“I asked what your plans are. If you can get away, I’d love for you to come meet my family for a couple days.”
“Meet your family?” I’ve never met the family before.
“You don’t have to, but I’d like you to come stay with me after you spend some time with your mom. I can show you where I grew up and went to high school. You might have to sit through a little boring conversation, but I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
The thought of meeting his parents scares the ever loving shit out of me. I’m not sure I can do it considering I’m not like the cookie cutter blondes from the country club they’re used to seeing. “It’s only a week, Kipton. The break might be nice.”
“You need a break already?” Cara asks. She finds this amusing and claps for her brother. “Nice job, Kippy. It only took you three weeks of official dating to drive the poor girl insane.”
I laugh at her, but Kipton’s not the least bit entertained. “Cara, can you give us a minute alone?”
“Uh oh. Sorry, Sophie. I’m out.” She stands up and takes off running without having to be asked a second time. Maybe I should run too. I don’t want to be away from Kipton for the entire break, but I’ll also be missing my therapy sessions. I don’t want to take two steps backwards while we’re away.