Always Watching

Daniel anything you don’t want us to. But you can talk to me. Is there anything you’d like to share?”
    Her face grew sad. “We did sharing exercises at the retreats. Daniel and I were partners the second weekend I was there—that’s how we met. Aaron matched us. He said our energy was really strong together.”
    “What kind of exercises?”
    “We had to confess things.” She shifted her weight, tugged at the bandage on her wrist like it was suddenly too tight. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
    My chest had also tightened at the word “confess.” I wanted to ask Heather more about these exercises, to see if they were like the confession ceremony I had participated in or something even worse. Maybe there was a clue there as to my memory loss. I hesitated. It wouldn’t be right to push Heather before she was ready—but she was the only person who could help fill in the blanks. I was still thinking about what to do when she continued on her own.
    “They said they could help me, that all my problems were in my head.” Sounding wistful now, Heather said, “So after a couple of weeks, I sold everything I owned, moved to River of Life, and started helping in the store.” I wondered what kind of store they had and whether it was at the commune.
    “I wanted to be good at something.” Heather paused, thinking. “Before Daniel came to the retreat, he’d been in Haiti, helping after the earthquake, and before that, he was overseas. He’s done such amazing things with his life. I haven’t done anything. I’m always quitting stuff—school, jobs. I have a trust fund, from my grandparents, and my parents bought me stuff and gave me money, so it just never seemed to matter. When I was at the center, though, I liked working at the store. I designed the displays—and I was good at it.” She began to pick at the bandage on her wrist. Pick, pick, pick. “When we left, I couldn’t find a job, because I was pregnant, so Daniel had to take two jobs. I was alone for hours.”
    “How was that experience for you?”
    “I hated it.” She stretched like she was trying to get away from something, squirmed in her chair. “Every minute seemed so long. I would watch the clock, TV, anything. But I was tired all the time, so I’d sleep. I tried to make him dinner when he came home but I’d make a mess and burn it.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she started shaking her head. “He should have a wife who takes care of him. Look at me.” She held out her wrists. “Who would want me?”
    “Have you had more thoughts about hurting yourself?”
    “I keep hearing a voice in my head.” She stopped. “I don’t mean like someone else’s voice. It’s mine, but it’s saying that I should die and—” She broke off, her hand covering her mouth.
    “It’s okay, just take a moment. I know it’s hard to talk about these feelings, but I can show you healthy ways to ease painful emotions rather than hurting yourself.”
    She took a breath and started again. “I call myself names.”
    “Like?”
    Her lips curled into a snarl, and her voice rose. “You stupid bitch, I hate you. You can’t do anything right. You’re an ugly, worthless piece of shit.” Her voice changed back to normal. “It makes me want to take a knife and gouge at my body, all over.” She pantomimed stabbing her legs, slashing at her body.
    “Who is the voice?” I wondered if she might be experiencing some splitting, a form of dissociation.
    “I don’t know—me, I guess. I just want it to be over.”
    “If everything is over, then you also don’t get to experience anything good. There’s no turning back.” I held her gaze. “Death is a permanent decision. Your husband, your parents, they might never recover.”
    “But then they could stop worrying about me—and my father can stop being disappointed.”
    I wondered if that’s why she’d been drawn to the center. A group that provided lots of encouragement and acceptance would have been very enticing. She was still searching for approval from an authority figure.
    I said, “Can you think of another time in your life when you felt depressed?”
    Speaking in a flat tone, she said, “When I tried to kill myself before.”
    “If you had succeeded then, you wouldn’t have met Daniel, right?”
    “That’s true.…” She turned toward me, a flicker of awareness in her eyes. My words had connected.
    “Well, that’s something to keep in mind next time you’re feeling