Page 4 of Until The Lights Go Out

“So I went on that blind date last night,” I offered as she sat down cross-legged after throwing a towel at Dante, who grumbled back.

“Good or bad?” she asked, stretching to one side.

“Honestly started off fine, then went to bad,” I sighed.

“Dating is impossible.” She shook her head, glaring out into the distance.

“Never going on a blind date again,” I laughed.

“The worst!” Vera agreed. “One time, I went on this date with a guy who—and I swear to God, I am not exaggerating—brought his pet lizard.” Vera went into detail, and I listened before the instructor entered. We tried to contain our giggles as class started with a few annoyed glances from surrounding attendees.

I did my best to focus on today’s flow, going through each movement with intention. Breathing in the new day and out the old. I remembered how silly I felt the first time I went. But Serena assured me the amount I put in was the amount I got back out. It was the same with racing. That I needed to actually give it an effort for it to work. She was right, of course, as she always was.

“See you!” Vera waved goodbye after class, a very sweaty and struggling Dante behind her. I felt the weight lifting off my shoulders by the end of class. One whole hour of dissociation really was rather effective. But the minute I scooped up my bag and stepped foot outside, it was back.

Serena:

Proof of life.

Maisey:

Alive.

Serena:

How was yoga?

Maisey:

Good.

Serena:

Wow the one-word answers are really fun

Maisey:

It was good.

Serena:

Much better. Three whole words! Woohoo!

I know today sucks, maybe go see your family?

Maisey:

I’ll think about it. I’m okay, promise. I’ll call you later

Serena:

Love you!

Maisey:

Love you too, S.

I got home to a quiet apartment, a chill coming in from the cracked windows in the kitchen. It was a rather small spot, but it was the first place that was just mine. Something that I was rather proud of. Besides its small resemblance to a shoebox in size, it was cozy and homey. Overflowing bookshelves were against the walls, hanging plants scattered throughout, framed photos and about three giant fuzzy blankets on the couch in front of my television. If there was one thing I loved, it was being home. While it was tied to low points and recovery, it was also all mine. A small space I had carved out in the world.