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Recovery Report: I No Longer Need You Chapter 10
Another five weeks passed, and I moved again. I had a soft, comfortable couch in my new living room. Whenever a panic attack hit, I'd hug one of the couch cushions tightly and call someone from my support group. If someone answered, I'd talk to them. If no one did, I'd breathe at my own pace. I no longer treated getting through an attack alone as something to be proud of. …One Friday evening, I went to a bookstore nearby to pick up a few books. When I went to pay, the cashier told me there was another copy still sealed in the stockroom and asked someone to bring it out.A few minutes later, Hugh came out from behind the shelves carrying a cardboard box. He saw me and stopped. We hadn't seen each other in a year. He'd lost some weight. There was dust on the cuffs of his shirt, and he wasn't wearing a name tag. He handed the book to the cashier without saying a single word to me. After I paid, I turned to leave. "Zara," he called out after me. I looked back. "How
Recovery Report: I No Longer Need You Chapter 9
Six months later, Sonia asked to meet me. She'd lost a lot of weight, and she no longer spoke to me in that sweet, innocent tone. "I'm not here to ask you to withdraw your testimony," she said, sliding a file across the table. "These are recordings Hugh never submitted. I found them on my old phone."I didn't touch the file. "Why are you giving it to me?""Because I'm getting proper treatment now," Sonia said, staring at her cup. "My new doctor told me Hugh didn't ask me to wait because he loved me. He kept me around as a backup—a safe place to return to. He needed someone who depended on him, and he needed someone else who would keep waiting for him."I hurt you back then because I thought that if I could prove your condition was worse than mine, he'd choose me."She paused. "But he didn't choose either of us," she continued after a moment. "He chose himself. He always had to be the right one."There were three audio recordings in the file. The first was from seven years
Recovery Report: I No Longer Need You Chapter 8
After Hugh's license was suspended, his clinic shut down. Tessa called me and told me he'd been sitting in the consultation room for the past few days, reluctant to pack up his things. "Ms. Paulsen, he's been staring at your appointment card for ages. Can you talk to him?""No.""But he's really regretting it now," Tessa said. "That doesn't mean I have to accommodate him."I hung up and went back to the assignments Dr. Xanders had given me. It wasn't about forcing myself not to reach out to anyone. It was about learning to distinguish between my needs. When my heart started racing, I could ask for help. When I was hurting, I could say so. I came to understand that wanting to be held wasn't a disorder. …That afternoon, I attended my first support group session. When it was my turn to speak, I said, "I used to think recovery meant never having to ask anyone for help.""And what do you think now?" the woman sitting beside me asked. "Now I think recovery means knowi
Recovery Report: I No Longer Need You Chapter 7
A month later, the state licensing board contacted me. Sonia had filed a complaint against me—not Hugh. She claimed that, out of jealousy, I'd interfered with her treatment, threatened her in public, and illegally possessed her prescription medication. Darren Bender, a representative from the board, asked if I'd like to provide a statement. I placed the evidence bag on the table. Inside were the medication bag, the note, my appointment records, the remaining pages of my journal, and a scanned copy of the long-time observation report."Hugh was the one who gave me the medication," I said. "He took my journal without my permission, and he repeatedly mixed up our prescriptions."Darren turned to the observation report, and his expression grew increasingly serious. "Did you ever sign an informed consent form for this study?""No.""Did you know how long you'd been observed?""No.""This document shows that the report was last updated three months ago."My breath caught. Hu
Recovery Report: I No Longer Need You Chapter 6
After being discharged, I moved into a temporary rental apartment. Hugh sent me one message every day. On the first day, it was "Have you eaten breakfast yet?" The next day, he wrote, "It's going to be cold tonight. Remember to close your windows." On the third day, he sent me a picture of my stuffed bunny, freshly cleaned. "I've already cleaned it," he said. "It's back in its original spot now."I didn't reply to any of his messages. On the fifth day, Hugh stopped me downstairs at my apartment building, holding a container of my favorite takeout. "Just give me ten minutes.""Dr. Specter, did you make an appointment?"The dark circles beneath his eyes made him look as though he hadn't slept in days. "Don't call me that," he said. "Then what do you want me to call you?" I asked. "My boyfriend? Or my therapist?"Hugh didn't answer. "You haven't been eating well lately," he said, holding out the takeout. "Taking your medication on an empty stomach will make you nau
Recovery Report: I No Longer Need You Chapter 5
I didn't turn back, nor did I expect Hugh to come after me. For the first time in seven years, I didn't turn to him when I had a panic attack. Instead, I went to the emergency department of a nearby hospital, sat at the triage desk, and handed the nurse the heart-rate and health data from my smartwatch."I can't catch my breath. My hands are numb, and my chest hurts. I have a history of anxiety.""You're doing well," the nurse said gently, helping me into a chair. "We'll check your blood oxygen levels first, and the doctor will be with you shortly."No one told me I was exaggerating my feelings or asked me to prove that I was calm enough to deserve help.Once the tests ruled out any physical cause for my symptoms, the doctor on call contacted the hospital's psychiatry department. The psychiatrist who came to see me was Dr. Roy Xanders. He read through my records before asking, "Is Hugh Specter your partner and your therapist?""Yes.""Did he ever disclose the risks of havin
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