Page 16 of Timeless: Encore

It didn't take much convincing to procure a prescription. My doctor and I had a frank conversation about the traumas I’d been through. She took a detailed history of my stress. It wasn’t fun to relive the worst times of my life, but we were able to pinpoint several instances that, essentially, broke my spirit as a kid.

My decision to go to culinary school, against my parents’ wishes, helped break me free from my family’s destructive patterns. With school to look forward to and a long-distance romance with Zane, I regained my independence. I found confidence in my chosen profession. Rose to the top of the most esteemed kitchen in New York. Then moved back to Seattle and rose to the top of my career here.

It was the best feeling in the world. Zane and I were on track. My career was on track. I was so happy. I’d found myself again. I was me. Through and through.

Then it all came crashing down. Zane was gone. I was a single mother. My dad died.

I was sad. Depressed, even. But I persevered. With the help of an occasional Xanax. Knowing I had to set a better example for Mia than my mom set for me, I was extraordinarily careful. I didn't abuse it and slowly I built up my self-worth again. Zane and I reunited. I felt like all my suffering had been worth it. I was going to be happy. Live life on my own terms with the man I was destined to be with.

Like the evil villain he is, Corey wouldn’t allow us to be happy. He renewed the custody battle, determined to use his wealth and power to destroy me. For years, I lived in fear if I died, the only parent Mia would ever know is a father who had zero interest in his biological daughter.

I knew what that felt like. I'd never let that happen to Meems.

It kept me up at night. I couldn’t sleep. My stress level was through the roof. At risk for high blood pressure, I needed help. Real, immediate help. I asked my new doctor for a prescription for Xanax.

She prescribed it as a short-term solution. Insisted I needed to get into therapy and find an antidepressant that worked for me. I didn’t want to do either of those things. I mean, why? Xanax did the trick. It made me feel relaxed. Focused. Determined. Confident.

It was like a magic elixir—instant relief. I finished the bottle. When I ran out, I was seriously worried about my own sanity. I was the most stressed I'd ever been. The idea I'd lose Mia…

So, I renewed the prescription Just until I got through the custody situation. I promised myself I’d stop taking it before I got addicted.

Earlier this year, that’s just what I did. I followed her instructions. Weaned myself off the dose under her supervision. It took weeks, but honestly wasn’t that hard.

Until it was.

Things are settled down, but I realize all of my past trauma is still with me. I've never actually dealt with it. Now, I have new stress. The restaurant. Hiring staff. Menu prep. It’s exciting, but I feel like I’m under so much stress. Self-induced stress, truth be told. Zane certainly couldn’t be more supportive.

To cope, I’m falling back on an old habit—overeating. A lot. I’ve gained a ton of weight. I’m the heaviest I’ve ever been. I’m so disgusted with myself. I know it can't continue, but I can’t seem to stop. Each day I swear I’ll get myself under control.

Then I find myself stuffing samples of the food I make into my mouth.

All. Day. Long.

God. Zane could have his pick of women. He'll be back out on the road next year. I’ve got to get a handle on the situation before he goes.

I’m not proud, but I’ve dipped into my not-quite-empty bottle of Xanax. I take half of a 2mg pill in the morning. The second half early evening. It’s better than the alternative. Because I feel calm again. I’ve dropped a few pounds too.

I'm so fucking thankful I never flushed the extra twenty pills.

”Fee! Fee! Connor and Ronni are parents. They named the boys Torin and Tristan.” Zane bounds into the bathroom after I swallow my dose. I must look sketchy because he stops in his tracks. “What’s going on?”

I splash some cold water on my face. “Uh, nothing. Why?”

“You look weird.” He cocks his head.

He’s so fucking intuitive. Especially with me. I can’t lie to him. Can I? He'd be devastated if I wasn't honest.

Shit. I’ve got to confess. “Okay. Fine. I've been feeling stressed.”

“Yeah.” He crosses his arms, waiting.

“I took Xanax again …” I hold out my palm. “Before you say anything, I know. I know. I’ll make an appointment. Do the things. I just couldn’t take how anxious I felt. It was too much.”

He’s hard to read. His expression isn’t, well, supportive. But, he isn’t angry either. “Okay.”

“Just okay?” I stare him down.

“Thanks for telling me?” He says this like a question.

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