Page 150 of The Glass Girl

A sunset overlaid with a saguaro is beneath that.

I turn the page.

The first two weeks of aftercare are the hardest. There are adjustments to be made in the way you’ll live your daily life. You should have some tools from your time at Sonoran Sunset to guide you. But remember: if you need help, ask someone.

Here are some tips for the next two weeks:

You are a fragile, valuable human.

You have undergone a tremendous life experience.

Your family or caregivers will want to help you and make things easier. Or they may not. Some families may impose rules and structure that you find suffocating. Some families may not have boundaries at all. It is up to you to find the balance that you need to thrive, and to make it happen.

Find a group right away. Meeting with others in similar situations will give you a space to talk, to feel seen and heard, and to receive validation for what you’re feeling and going through.

Avoid situations that may trigger you or make you feel unsafe. This includes parties and family gatherings that may involve alcohol or other substances, and being with friends who may not respect your needs.

I close my eyes.

So I’m supposed to basically avoid everything, all the time, for the rest of my life.

Perfect.

I open my eyes and flip through the pages. Lists of resources in Tucson: sober book club meetups; sober teen meetups; sober horseback riding camp (this makes me wonder if a lot of people are riding horses drunk, who would have thought); yoga classes for teens; mindful retreats for teens.

Then, in the back, are fourteen blank pages. Well, not entirely blank.

On the top of the first one it says,This is your journal for the next fourteen days. You can write whatever you want here. This is a space for you to think about your day. We’ve included some experiences you may encounter during the next two weeks on each page. These are not chronological or absolute but are common in the immediate days of recovery after returning home.

Recovery.Like I’ve come back from a long illness or injury.

Perhaps I have.

I flip the pages. At the top of each one is a sentence. I flip back to Day One, which I guess is…today.

You will feel scared, alone, hopeful, angry, unsettled, and unsure of what every day from now on will be like. Remember, you made it this far.

The littleYou got this!sticker that I saw when I was in the activity room before I left drifts out from the pages. I kick it under my desk, shove the papers into the folder, and cram the whole packet in my backpack.

Then I hide under my bedspread until my mother says it’s time to go shopping.

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The mall is filled with old people and tired parents pushing overloaded strollers. Of course: everyone my age is in school right now. At least I can be grateful for that.

“Where should we go first?” my mother asks brightly, hoisting her purse over her shoulder.

I shrug. “I don’t care. I mean, I don’t really shop here. I don’t like new stuff.”

“Well, where do you go when you come here with your friends?”

I look around, sighing.

“Well, Kristen likes Forever 21, mostly because she can steal something small, like a bracelet. Then we go to Claire’s and mess around. Then we go to Spencer’s and look at weird stuff and Cherie buys a T-shirt. Then we have Panda Express.”

I don’t tell her that sometimes Kristen brings something she stole from her mom’s and we drink it in the photo booth and make funny faces.

“Well, then let’s go to Forever 21, I guess,” my mother says.

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