I lay back down on the couch.
“Yes.” Vivian finished her crappy drink.
“I’m going to take a shower and go play some ball down at the college courts.” Troy headed to the kitchen. I noticed Vivian checking out my brother’s behind as he left.
“Eww.” I lowered my lips into a frown.
She blushed. “Just be ready to run with me in ten minutes.”
I dragged the blanket over my head and hoped that would make her leave me alone.
“Drink your protein shake, too. I took your advice and added some basil to it.”
“I doubt basil will help,” I barked back. “And if I remember correctly I said the only thing that could help your protein shake was pouring it down the drain.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I said your spaghetti needed basil.”
“Well regardless, drink and get dressed.”
“I don’t want to,” I whined.
“Come on, Jasmine. You know how you get when you don’t work out.”
I exhaled. Last night’s panic attack flashed into my head. I’d battled with depression and anxiety since I was young. Benny took me to lots of doctors. None of them worked. They too quickly prescribed drugs that weighed me down and kept my mind foggy. My last high school counselor was the one who’d helped me gain control of my attacks. She’d studied alternative medicine and ordered me to focus on eating nutritious meals, exercising daily, surrounding myself with positive things, and even simpler ideas like making sure I went outside and got at least three hours of Vitamin D from the sun. I’d been skeptical, but all of it helped.
And each day without the shackles of anxiety was a blessed day of salvation. Once I entered college I started meditating and trying to keep my mind in the as much as possible, instead of entertaining sad thoughts of my past or worrying about my future. Any slip off my regimen shoved me right back into a depressing world where a dark cloud hovered over me and threatened to swallow me whole. Sleepless nights, unending tears, and the constant feeling of danger lurking around the corner would return. And with all that I had to deal with this upcoming week, the least I could do was take control of my emotions.
“Are you drinking that shake?” Vivian yelled like some hardcore boot camp sergeant.
“I hate you,” I grumbled.
Chapter 11
F or the fifth time during the run, vomit threatened to rise in my throat. It singed my esophagus, but never revealed itself to the other runners in the park. Apparently, hangovers and exercise didn’t complement each other. To make matters worse, Vivian decided to describe her hot and passionate evening with my brother throughout the whole run.
“Please stop saying that,” I whined and held my stomach as we ran through Rower’s Way.
“It was just so big,” Vivian giggled. “And thick.”
“Ick! I absolutely don’t want to know that about my brother.”
“We’re both adults. You’re just being a big baby.”
“You’re being insensitive to my stomach. You’re an only child. You can’t truly appreciate how horrific this is.”
“Fine. I won’t say anything else.” She pouted. “Your best friend takes on the biggest penis of her life and you force her to keep her journey inside.”
“Write it in your journal.”
“I don’t have one.”
“Well, now’s the time to get it.”
“Party pooper.”
I ignored her and focused on the run. A cool wind rushed by and chilled my sweaty skin. The leaves and branches on the trees swayed and bobbed. No clouds lurked anywhere. Just a clear blue sky hovered over us. Even better, guys in tight, colored body suits zoomed by on shiny bicycles. On my right, couples lounged together on benches or cuddled on blankets in the grass. Further ahead, a kite contest was happening. Crowds of parents helped their kids hold onto colorful kites that glittered in the sky. Everybody enjoyed themselves around me and I relished in their delight for life, drinking in as much as I could like an emotional
“Yes.” Vivian finished her crappy drink.
“I’m going to take a shower and go play some ball down at the college courts.” Troy headed to the kitchen. I noticed Vivian checking out my brother’s behind as he left.
“Eww.” I lowered my lips into a frown.
She blushed. “Just be ready to run with me in ten minutes.”
I dragged the blanket over my head and hoped that would make her leave me alone.
“Drink your protein shake, too. I took your advice and added some basil to it.”
“I doubt basil will help,” I barked back. “And if I remember correctly I said the only thing that could help your protein shake was pouring it down the drain.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I said your spaghetti needed basil.”
“Well regardless, drink and get dressed.”
“I don’t want to,” I whined.
“Come on, Jasmine. You know how you get when you don’t work out.”
I exhaled. Last night’s panic attack flashed into my head. I’d battled with depression and anxiety since I was young. Benny took me to lots of doctors. None of them worked. They too quickly prescribed drugs that weighed me down and kept my mind foggy. My last high school counselor was the one who’d helped me gain control of my attacks. She’d studied alternative medicine and ordered me to focus on eating nutritious meals, exercising daily, surrounding myself with positive things, and even simpler ideas like making sure I went outside and got at least three hours of Vitamin D from the sun. I’d been skeptical, but all of it helped.
And each day without the shackles of anxiety was a blessed day of salvation. Once I entered college I started meditating and trying to keep my mind in the as much as possible, instead of entertaining sad thoughts of my past or worrying about my future. Any slip off my regimen shoved me right back into a depressing world where a dark cloud hovered over me and threatened to swallow me whole. Sleepless nights, unending tears, and the constant feeling of danger lurking around the corner would return. And with all that I had to deal with this upcoming week, the least I could do was take control of my emotions.
“Are you drinking that shake?” Vivian yelled like some hardcore boot camp sergeant.
“I hate you,” I grumbled.
Chapter 11
F or the fifth time during the run, vomit threatened to rise in my throat. It singed my esophagus, but never revealed itself to the other runners in the park. Apparently, hangovers and exercise didn’t complement each other. To make matters worse, Vivian decided to describe her hot and passionate evening with my brother throughout the whole run.
“Please stop saying that,” I whined and held my stomach as we ran through Rower’s Way.
“It was just so big,” Vivian giggled. “And thick.”
“Ick! I absolutely don’t want to know that about my brother.”
“We’re both adults. You’re just being a big baby.”
“You’re being insensitive to my stomach. You’re an only child. You can’t truly appreciate how horrific this is.”
“Fine. I won’t say anything else.” She pouted. “Your best friend takes on the biggest penis of her life and you force her to keep her journey inside.”
“Write it in your journal.”
“I don’t have one.”
“Well, now’s the time to get it.”
“Party pooper.”
I ignored her and focused on the run. A cool wind rushed by and chilled my sweaty skin. The leaves and branches on the trees swayed and bobbed. No clouds lurked anywhere. Just a clear blue sky hovered over us. Even better, guys in tight, colored body suits zoomed by on shiny bicycles. On my right, couples lounged together on benches or cuddled on blankets in the grass. Further ahead, a kite contest was happening. Crowds of parents helped their kids hold onto colorful kites that glittered in the sky. Everybody enjoyed themselves around me and I relished in their delight for life, drinking in as much as I could like an emotional
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