Seeking Relief

Self Inflicting Pain

The next several days passed with little happening, in regards to major events for Jade.

However, Jade did have a routine.

She got up early.

Usually it was her fourth or fifth time waking up throughout the night and she was fed up trying to fall back asleep.

She’d brush her teeth, change and put on a bra, get some coffee going then wait for the guys.

Sometimes they were over first thing after their shifts. Sometimes they would be late, and she’d see them in staggered intervals. Or sometimes they got held up at work and they needed to go straight home.

At first they used to come over after such long shifts. The first few times happened with Adam and Mitch. They came over for a bit, but they were so tired it wasn’t a very qualitative visit. Then she worried about them driving home.

So when they get off so late, she told them to just go straight home instead.

After she agreed to talk to them on the phone while they drove home, they acquiesced to going straight home after long shifts.

When Jade needed to go on an errand, either Linn or one of the guys would take her. So far, she had only needed two grocery runs, a trip to her employment for paperwork and a visit, and a trip to the library. She stocked up on DVD’s and some books in preparation for entertainment while she was at home post surgery. She still went to the Crisis Center for her scheduled therapy appointments. The center was only a handful of blocks away, so she always welcomed the opportunity for a short walk and fresh air.

She had filled her time at home with light cleaning and meal prepping. She wanted to set up things so that she only had to do the bare minimum while she was healing.

The guys had taken her out to eat a few times and they saw an action movie in the theaters.

They found out that she was a huge fan of the franchise and was just itching for it to be released on DVD so she could finally watch it. They couldn’t believe how stuck on her budget she was that she wouldn’t even treat herself to movie tickets. She had just chuckled and shrugged. She didn’t want to tell them that buying groceries ahead of time has really stretched her wallet thin already.

The guys became dead set on taking her out. She argued because she couldn’t afford it. When they all straightforwardly told her that she wasn’t paying a dime, even if she could afford it, and after that was said repeatedly, then she agreed to excursions with them.

As the days passed, she found that her favorite moments were when all of them were together. She loved listening to them joking, teasing, and their general sense of comradery. These were the memories that she treasured, and she would reflect back on them with tenderness.

The guys were also quick to step forward to help her when she needed it, but they wouldn’t make her feel inferior or unable.

They did, however, keep a close eye on signs of her pain getting out of control. Jade was grateful for them and flattered by their attention. However, voicing her vulnerability and acknowledging her pain out loud was just something she could not bring herself to do. Bitterly she had mused that it must be another issue left over from Lance that she’d need to work on.

With Linn’s warnings reverberating in her head, Jade was mindful of her alcohol consumption. She found she wasn’t looking for a drink when she let the guys help her.

The more they did for her, the less she did, which meant the less she pushed and aggravated her injuries, which reduced the flare ups she had. When that was the case, she found her pain was way more tolerable and manageable. Some days were better than others. Either by fluke, accident, or her own doing.

Today, and most likely the next few, were going to be one of those ‘her fault’ bad days. She knew the next two days were definitely going to be bad, since she was deep cleaning her apartment. She was grateful for the fact that all of the guys had long shifts for the next few days. At first, she was a little melancholic when she found out about their schedules, but now she was grateful.

They won’t see her maniac like cleaning spree. Then her high pain afterwards.

Cleaning seemed to be the only thing keeping her from spiraling into a mental breakdown today.

She had another night terror last night, it was one of her worst.

She had woken up in the dark, terror wrecked. Her clothes were soaked with sweat and her throat felt raw. She spent several minutes struggling to get her heart rate under control.

She had gotten up, ripped the sheets from the bed, stuffed them in her washer, and remade her bed with clean sheets. She stripped and rinsed off to get the stickiness of her sweat off.

She laid there in her bed in clean clothes for several minutes attempting to be lulled back to sleep. Instead, she ended up staring at her ceiling with bleak eyes while her chest hurt from her heart thundering against it.

She rolled out of bed and decided to do a few things while she tried to come down from her adrenaline high. She went into the kitchen, pulled on gloves over her splints, and did her dishes. Then she started to wipe down all the surfaces in the kitchen, that evolved to her pulling everything off the counter to wipe underneath and behind, and she lifted the stove top to scrub under there. She wiped her cupboards and returned everything to their place in the kitchen.

She still felt restless.

So she grabbed her long handled duster and a rag. She started in her bedroom, swiping at the ceiling and high walls with the duster. After she dusted the ceiling fan, she wiped surfaces with her rag she had in her hand. She followed the walls, repeating that dusting method through the rest of her apartment. The beauty of having a small apartment and not many belongings, meant it was just that much faster to dust.

She pulled the duster off the handle and tossed it with her rag into the dirty laundry. She returned the long handle to its corner in the laundry closet where she stores it.

She pulled out her vacuum to pick up the dust that fell. Less than 10 minutes later, she had made her circuit of the small space.

She still felt restless, so she went to the bathroom, pulled her gloves back on, and scrubbed.

She finished that, then decided to do the floor. With a bucket of warm soapy water and a rag she got down on her knees and made efficient work of wiping the floor of her small bathroom.

She was finally feeling better. Her hands and foot were on FIRE, but her mind was finally easing. Her heartrate was finally returning to normal and she was feeling like herself again.

She was no longer feeling like a caged animal.

She decided after this last task, she’d take some Tylenol and sit.

She took the bucket to the kitchen and dumped it. She filled it with fresh water and soap, then got a new rag. As she watched the mountain of bubbles in the bucket grow under the faucet, she thought of the timing of this self induced pain fog she’ll have. Once again, feeling grateful that the guys won’t be privy to this and she’ll have to admit her mistake. She did mull over the realization that she may drink a little more than they care for to dull the pain. Again, she was grateful they won’t see the wreck she’ll be and she can suffer in private.

She took her bucket to the end of the kitchen s***h laundry closet. Then like she did for the bathroom floor, she got down on her knees and started wiping the floor down. She was backing around the corner of her kitchen and finishing the last stretch of the floor when she heard a quick knock on her door and the tell tale thump of the door closing. 

She froze.