OBSESSION

OBSESSION

By Deirdra Hawthorne Mathes

Walking down the hallway -dread- laced with sick anticipation- fills me. Blood pounds in my ears. For months, I have used every excuse I could imagine- even lied- to avoid seeing you. But this cannot be put off any longer. My future demands this meeting.

Drawing my shoulders back, I know this is a brave choice. A tough choice– but I am afraid. So very afraid that I won’t be strong enough to keep you out of my life.

Clenching my fist, I silently declare:

I will not think this way.

I have worked too hard to sever the hold you have over me.

Murmuring my mantra under my breath,

I am strong.

I am bold.

I am enough.

Still, there’s a pit in my stomach.

I cheer myself on:

You can do this. You can do this.

The door opens, I step into the room. Like a coward, I catch myself staring at my feet. Holding my breath, I slowly raise my eyes to meet you.

Expecting some kind of cosmic pull between us, I am stunned to realize I feel…nothing. Emboldened, I hold my gaze. I see the years on you. The brightness I once saw seems dim. You look… old. But still I feel your presence.

Tears sting my eyes.

Embarrassed, I turn towards the wall, automatically removing my shoes.

No shoes in your presence—It’s a rule.

As I place them against the wall, realization slaps me:

I’ve already slipped.

I don’t have to follow this stupid rule!

It’s my choice.

I freeze.

Should I put my shoes back on? Would that make me look strong? Or weak?

Stop this.

You are strong.

You are bold.

You are enough.

Lifting my chin in defiance, I turn back to you. Have you always been this cold? This disinterested?

There is silence. There is waiting.

I stare back.

What are you waiting for?

For me to run to you? Seek your approval?

Not this time.

Today will be different- because I am different.

Silence hangs between us like fog. I can see the marks of time on you. Time has marked me as well. But memory- clever and vivid- pulls me back.

You were a part of my family life for as long as I could remember. As a child, I barely noticed you. I was more interested in playing with my friends. But you were important to my parents, a frequent guest in the kitchen.

My interest in you flared in high school. I was a late bloomer, and I was quite proud of my budding curves. I compared myself to my friends, and when my body blossomed, I needed someone to notice.

That’s when I noticed you.

At first it was just a game. I would parade various outfits in front of you, watching for your reaction. Your praise brightened my whole day. But amusement turned into something darker.

I needed your approval. And need grew.

Deep down, I knew our relationship was wrong, so I kept it hidden. I became clever at concealing my obsession.

When my parents were gone, I would seek moments with you. Early in the morning or late at night, under my little flashlight, I would seek you out. I loved how you made me feel. There was joy in your presence.

No one knew – only my diary held the truth.

In college my desire for you faded. Dorm life was busy- friends, studying, work. I graduated with honors. Earned an internship.

I was content. Full.

You became a speck on the horizon of my past.

I lived my best life. I traveled. I laughed. I felt strong. I looked great. I didn’t need you.

Then I met a man. A wonderful man. We fell in love, married and built a beautiful life.

But as the years passed, the rhythm of marriage became routine. Mundane. Dull.

Dullness brought darkness into me, and it awoke something inside.

Obsession.

My happiness faded. I needed a spark. I needed validation.

I needed you. So, I let you back in.

Breathless in anticipation, I dreamed of seeing you again. I believed seeing you would give me the power I needed. A boost. I told myself: just a little, just once.

Yet this time did not bring me joy. You were so cold. Disapproving.

And the rejection stung like ice.

It should have ended there.

But instead, I tried harder.

I was desperate.

I craved your approval.

The harder I tried-the more you betrayed.

At first, I made excuses:

“It’s just a party.” “It’s Christmas.” “I wasn’t paying enough attention.”

I was trapped. Miserable.

Wanting to win, my efforts increased.

I dressed sexier. Changed my hair style. I took stupid online quizzes to ‘find myself’. I was anxious for approval.

Obsession was back.

My poor husband had no idea how to help me. I couldn’t tell him my shame. I couldn’t tell him the truth.

I was sick.

They say you must hit rock bottom. For me, it came without warning. I was trying. I had gone an entire month without you. I walked more, reflected more. I wasn’t happy but I was calmer. Less frantic. The worry on my husband’s face had begun to fade.

Riding on this new strength, I thought: Just once more. To satisfy my curiosity. Then I will be done.

I met you with hope. Your rejection was cruel. It broke me.

I screamed. I kicked. I sobbed. I collapsed.

The evidence of my breakdown surrounded me.

An ice-cream container laid on its side.

Empty candy bar wrappers littered the floor.

Chocolate stains on my once-pretty white shirt.

I was disgusted.

With you

With myself.

My coping was cliché.

Too tired to get off the floor, I leaned against the wall. My reflection in the dishwasher stared back at me.

I didn’t recognize myself.

I was a mess. Pale skin, lifeless hair, defeated eyes.

I wanted to blame you; I always blamed you.

But for the first time, I saw clearly.

It was me.

I came to you.

I made you - my obsession.

And I was done.

I have no memory of getting off the floor. Of cleaning the mess. I remember showering. Dressing. And sitting on the sofa. Waiting.

When my husband walked in, I told him everything. Every shameful piece.

I twisted a tissue in my hands as I told him. I couldn’t meet his eyes.

When I finally looked up, I expected to see:

Revulsion.

Disgust.

I saw kindness.

Hope.

Recovery began in that moment. What was in the dark was now in the light. We found a counselor.

My husband held my hand through every step of the way. Held me up when I was weak.

It’s been a year now.

It has not been easy. And sometimes the urge to see you is strong.

But I am stronger.

I discovered-I don’t need you.

Once, I saw you in a store. I walked the other way. I never went back.

I am in control now.

I have my life back. A better life.

So today, I face you again. And- I feel – nothing.

No that’s not true. I feel - relief.

I no longer care about you.

I am free.

Free of judgement.

Free of obsession.

I am strong.

I am brave.

I am enough.

The nurse enters the room and says,

“Katherine, if you will just step on the scales”.

I smile.

And lift my foot.

The End