Panera Bread

Part 2 | Panera Bread

It's been a week since Gar and I finished our Chinese and headed back to Connecticut together. I named him Gar because that's the sound my stomach made when I thought of it before having to puke. It's also short for garbage.

And that's how I felt.

I spend every night in continued horror playing the new game, "how far can I make it to the front door before I run outside?". True story. I once ran all the way down a flight of stairs, through the living room, and partially through the front door before I put two and two together. I was having what I eventually called an "episode," and Gar was a jerk.

You could say I was training for a new marathon.


My phone rings. It's Mom.

Mom: "Helloooooo!"

Me: "HellOOOOOO"

Mom: "Eeeee, how are you?"

Me: "I'm okay. How are you, Mom?"

Mom: "I'm gooooood. Have you been able to sleep?"

Me: "It's the same every night, Mom. I'm trying, though."



After convincing my mother that I have not watched a scary movie in years, she asks to get lunch together. Panera Bread was the common denominator, so off we went. Gar in the back.



We seat ourselves down at one of the window seats. We have both chosen a bread bowl with french onion soup and a generous size caesar salad and of course, more bread, as a side. The generous salad also had a generous bill.

I spent the next 2 hours explaining what had happened at Salem and how I have been coping with my new friend. My mom is straight-lipped and does not know what to say. They apparently didn’t have a chapter in "how to raise a child with a demon" in the 90's addition in "Raising Baby." Nevertheless, she is convinced I should seek out another opinion besides someone who wears velvet and a cape.

She might have a point.


I don't eat much. Whether it's from lack of sleep or Gar playing with my food- I think both reasons are valid and suck. We get into the car and head back to my place. I feel like I'm going to be sick. With a kiss goodbye and a fresh lecture to find someone else to help me one without a cape, I am left with my own thoughts in silence.

A message from Mom before I leave.


Me: " Yes, mom...."

We all have thoughts of what fear is. What we think is the scariest thing that can ever happen. What we think would be the scariest "worst-case scenario." I never felt fear of this magnitude. I was seeing things no one else could see. Hearing things no one else could hear. Know things without having prior knowledge. Worst part?

I have a Bachelors's degree in Psychology.


Which one is better? Having a demon inside of you wanting your soul, or being crazy? Demogorgon or schizophrenia? At this point, I just want some sleep. Higher power, huh. After another sleepless night, I fell to my knees and prayed to something I had never believed in most of my life.

I had to ask a catholic friend if it was left-right or right-left when spuing the "son, father and holy ghost" cross shindig across your chest.

I'm on to a great start.

It's left right.

"Alright…God? Allah? Great…being in the sky?" This is awkward. I am asking for help. Please, give me a sign? What am I supposed to do? This is stupid.

… "Oh, I was talking with my psychic friend Sherry! She told me my father was telling me to leave my mother alone! He never did like it when we fought!"


And that is where I met my greatest mentor and advisor. For privacy purposes, her name will be Sherry. Also, I've had the song, Sherry by Frankie Valli in my head. I dare you to think of the song without a nasally inner voice.

Sheeeeerrryyyy bay-ya-beeeeee (Sherry baby).

Thank you for reading Part 2 in how it all started and how I got to where I am today! For those of you interested, Part 3 will be coming soon!

Best & Brightest!




33 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All