Page 22 of Aftershock

“Honestly, the thing is, it was no different than any other night, but I think that was the problem. Nothing ever got any better.” She then focused on the dimly lit lights on the ceiling mounted above us. “When I was younger, I was so consumed with being a celebrity that I felt like I needed to fit the stereotypical mold of one. I struggled with anorexia for years, starving myself so that I could have the body everyone was telling me I needed, but all of the constant voices in my head were too much. I thought the only way to stop them was by drinking, so I turned to alcohol. That quieted the noise for a while, but when the alcohol wore off, so did the silence.” I never knew she struggled with alcohol. I always thought that because of her dad's addiction, drinking was something she would never do. I guess you can't make assumptions about someone else's life, especially when you don't really know them. “After being forced into AA, I learned to focus on my own words and drown out everyone else's.” She closed her eyes as she told me things that I wasn't sure I should even be listening to. “But even that wasn't enough because, after a while, I started to resent my own voice. I hated myself even more at that point because, when I stopped purging and obsessing over my calorie intake, I gained so much weight. I felt worthless.”

Lexi and I barely knew each other. Why was she sharing so much with a stranger she had met in a public restroom? Maybe it was easier to talk to someone who felt so far away from the life that she was living. Maybe I made her feel as safe as she made me feel. Maybe this was her way of feeling less alone. Maybe, just maybe, being here with the one person who had no choice other than to listen to your story was somehow therapeutic…for both of us.

Maybe.

“Lexi…” I trailed off, at a loss for words.

“Then my father died, and the pain of losing him was too much to bear. I resented him so much when he was alive, but deep down, I always pushed for him to get better. When he died, I lost hope in the possibility of recovery. I felt like I failed him. I felt like I failed myself. I didn’t see the point of trying to get better. That's when I refused to eat again. That's when the voices in my head started getting louder. I started to push everyone away like he did. One night, I decided I was done trying to survive in a world that I didn't even like.” Her voice was trembling, hoarse from retelling the details of the story. Her eyes were filled to the brim with tears. Clenching her hands into fists, she went on, “So I got drunk and bought pills from some dealer I met online.” By this point, she had started to silently cry.

When I was diagnosed with depression, I never thought about ending my life. It was more about feeling trapped for me. I always felt like there was no way out, but the thought of death being the solution never crossed my mind. I couldn’t imagine how much pain she had to be in for her to consider that as her only option.

“Lexi, I’m so sorry.” I leaned my head on her shoulder.

Wiping her tears, she explained how the suicide attempt had impacted her life. She had suffered multiple seizures, and her heart even stopped at one point. The seizure caused brain damage, which affected her speech significantly. She was in therapy for a year before she fully regained the ability to speak properly, and then it was onto the matter of actually singing. It took another five months to retrain and strengthen her voice. Recovery was a tricky journey to navigate in any sense, but the fact that she had to retrain her mind and body was something I was sure I would have never been able to accomplish.

“I honestly don't know how I survived. I should be dead right now,” she reflected.

I couldn’t deny that. By all means, she should not be alive right now, but I was so happy that she was.

“You're just too stubborn to die,” I laughed, picking my head up from her shoulder and raising my knees to my chest. My goal had been to make her smile, not cry. But sometimes I forget it’s okay to do both. “No, it's not that you're stubborn,” I said, shaking my head and refuting my previous statement. “It's that you're strong.”

She chuckled before responding, “I’m ‘resilient.’”

I laughed as she referenced her own album. “Hey, now you're getting it!” I lifted my arm up with my palm facing her.

Shaking her head slightly, she lifted her arm and slapped my hand with hers. “You're a fucking loser,” she snorted, then bumped my shoulder with her own. “But thank you.”

I was in no position to offer words of advice, and honestly, I wasn’t even sure if she wanted any. All I could really do was listen to her story…but sometimes, just listening was enough.

“Hey, Lexi?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re still here.”

“Me too.”

Looking at her, I analyzed her facial expression. “Are you okay?” I questioned, hoping I didn’t open old wounds with my curiosity.

“Yeah, it’s actually nice to talk to someone about this.”

“Talking to a total stranger about your deepest scars,” I summarized her words. “Yeah, maybe Lexi Harlow is insane.” We both cracked up, laughing together in spite of the heavy topic that we had just discussed. Something I learned in therapy was that just because you had depression it didn’t mean you would never smile. “Speaking of being insane, ‘Insanity’ is an amazing song, by the way. You have no idea how much it helped me.”

“I wrote that song after I tried to commit suicide,” she glared at me. “I think I have a pretty good idea of how therapeutic it is.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I shook my head vigorously. “I’m so sorry.”

She laughed at that. “Relax, I was just giving you a hard time.”

“What the fuck! You’re a real ass, you know that?”

“And don’t you forget it!”

“Oh, trust me, Lexi Harlow. Everything about you is unforgettable.”

True Colors

“So, what music video are you shooting in California?”

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