Chapter 5

With the weekend approaching, John thought about his options. He was fully aware of the dangers the weekend brought, and tried to make a point of exploring a new point of the country to spark his sense of adventure. Today he decided on a little place on the East Coast called Castle Point which Bennie had recommended.

 Navigating the New Zealand roads was still a work in progress, and his car had a couple of paint scratches on the fenders where he had failed to fully adjust to the changes. For now though, each day felt like a new adventure.

 After driving a couple of hours on long, winding roads, he reached the top of the hill and saw the Ocean sprawled out in front of him. It was a lovely sight after a couple of hours in the car, and he thought about what he might do here as opposed to simply finding the nearest bar.

  He saw a lighthouse in the distance and decided he would hike up to it and get a little see air. It was late springtime in New Zealand, and still pretty chilly close to the sea.

Navigating to the top, he reached the lighthouse and saw nothing but ocean as far as the eye could see. It was a lovely sight, and reminded him why he had moved to New Zealand in the first place. The wild, free, uninhibited landscape was healing, and he took a deep breath and reached in his bag for his reading.

  He was reading a book called ‘Scar Tissue’ today, which was an autobiography written by Anthony Kiedis of the Red Hot Chili Peppers about his battle and recovery from addiction all while fronting one of the biggest bands in the world.

He thought about his own desire for fame as he flipped through the pages, and how he at times felt like this was the thing that would finally give him validation in his life. He had been wrong about that, as a deep and honest connection with other human beings was the only thing that had ever made him feel like it.


And yet here he sat. Alone.

It had been two years now since the death of his wife and daughter, and a large part of him wanted to find his way back to people again. His work allowed him these connections, and it always had. But lately he found himself sharing a little more about himself with his patients than usual, and he knew this was a sign to pay attention to. It reeked of loneliness, and he knew the office was not the place to meet this particular need.

 He put down his book and took out a rumpled piece of paper he carried with him. It was called ‘An Autobiography in Five Short Chapters by Portia Nelson, it went-

Chapter I
I walk down the street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk

I fall in.

I am lost ... I am helpless.

It isn't my fault.

It takes me forever to find a way out.

Chapter II

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I pretend I don't see it.

I fall in again.

I can't believe I am in the same place

but, it isn't my fault.

It still takes a long time to get out.

Chapter III

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I see it is there.

I still fall in ... it's a habit.

my eyes are open

I know where I am.

It is my fault.

I get out immediately.

Chapter IV

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I walk around it.

Chapter V

I walk down another street.

He thought he was on Chapter 5 now with his new start in New Zealand. Or at the very least Chapter 4.

But he would soon discover he was wrong.