Page 45 of Camp Bliss
I don’t like this swaying feeling right in my middle, like I’m off balance, even though I haven’t moved.
“A-Are you saying I don’t trust myself?”
That serene smile is back. “Do you?”
I feel like a clam that’s been pried open, my pale, glistening insides exposed to merciless sunlight.
“I-I thought I did.”
But how could I possibly trust myselfnow?
Trina nods, but she’s watching me, as though waiting for the penny to drop.
“You’re saying that I should have known this was coming?” My stomach is a coiled spring. Because no matter what she says, I already think I should have known.
Her barely there frown is back.“Shouldisn’t a helpful word, but people are always showing us who they are. Like Maya Angelou said, when they do, it’s our job to believe them.”
Oh my God. She’s right.
Josh told me straight up that he wanted out. More than once.
And in countless other less obvious ways—his complaining, his exhaustion, his depression—he’s shown me that this isn’t what he wants.
I just didn’t want to see it.
I’m not responsible for his actions. But I am responsible for ignoring what was right in front of me.
For not being honest with myself.
But not trusting myself?
Was there ever a warning voice whispering to me in the quiet of the night?
The questions must be written all over my face.
“When you make room for all of what you feel, you’ll be surprised what insights they can give you to all of your experiences and relationships.”
I sniff a laugh. “So now I’m supposed to become some kind of Jedi? Trust the Force?”
Her laugh is musical. It feels like I'm smiling for the first time in years.
“Would you like to reschedule? Maybe for early next week?”
I bite my lip but then nod. I might have had my doubts about online therapy, but I feel a lot calmer and more grounded than I did an hour ago. And if I have an appointment on the calendar, it’ll give me a goal to work toward. Something to hold onto when I otherwise feel completely alone.
As if he’s reading my mind, Russell gives a short whine. He’s standing at the door. And only then do I realize I haven’t fed him.
Thanking Trina, I quickly schedule another appointment with her for Tuesday and log off.
“Buddy, I’m so sorry.” I get to my feet and remind myself that I haven’t eaten since lunch.
And I puked that up hours ago.
“C’mon. Let’s get us some dinner.”
As soon as I shut the cabin door behind us, I turn on my phone’s flashlight because even though the moon is rising, I still want to be able to illuminate my surroundings—and spot any four-legged animals that might be lurking in the dark.
Except for primitive camping, I’ve never seen so many nocturnal creatures before moving out here. Opossum, raccoons, owls, armadillo. Those I’m not too afraid of, but I have no wish to encounter a skunk or a coyote, and I know they aren’t far.
