Despite Your Crazy

Despite Your Crazy K.C. Everly Copyright Copyright © 2023 by K.C. Everly All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. Cover copy created by BlurbWriter.com Contents 1. Before You Read 2. One 3. Two 4. Three 5. Four 6. Five 7. Six 8. Seven 9. Eight 10. Nine 11. Ten 12. Eleven 13. Twelve 14. Thirteen 15. Fourteen 16. Fifteen 17. Sixteen 18. Seventeen 19. Eighteen 20. Nineteen 21. Twenty 22. Twenty-One 23. Twenty-Two 24. Twenty-Three 25. Twenty-Four 26. Twenty-Five 27. Twenty-Six 28. Twenty-Seven 29. Twenty-Eight 30. Twenty-Nine 31. Thirty 32. Thirty-One 33. Thirty-Two 34. Thirty-Three 35. Epilogue Thank You Acknowledgments Also By KC Everly Before You Read Hello Dear Reader, While this book contains plenty of laughs, it also touches on more sensitive themes related to mental health and childhood trauma. This book discusses substance abuse and alcoholism, as well as various mental health disorders. Most of the book’s plot takes place in a fictional mental health treatment facility. It is a work of fiction, and any advice related to mental health in this book is not to substitute or replace real professional care. Issues related to mental health are near and dear to my heart. The struggles and triumphs of mental and emotional health are such a very human experience, which is why I write about them. Please proceed as comfortable, and always practice good self-care before, during, and after reading. National Suicide Prevention Line: Call: 988 (Previously 1.800.273.8255 will continue to function indefinitely as well) Xx K.C. One Rachel “T hree minutes, Rachel.” I pointed down the hallway outside of my greenroom. “Bathroom that way?” Caroline, the PA, confirmed with a nod, keeping her eyes on the clipboard in front of her. “Guest is going to the toilet,” she said into the headset attached to her ear. She looked up to glare at me. “You have two minutes to do what you need to do. Don’t fuck up your makeup.” O-kay. TV interviews were never my favorite, but I appreciated the efficiency at least. As a highly structured woman married to her planner, it brought comfort to my overly controlling heart. Two minutes to get centered in private. My hands gripped the edges of the bathroom sink as I made aggressive eye contact with myself in the mirror. “You will nail this, Rachel. You will smile.” I bared my teeth, scanning for loose bits of food. I would forever check after that Anderson Cooper interview two years ago. It was horrifying, but my best friend, Sophie, promised no one would remember it. I appreciated her lies. “You will be positive.” I ran a hand over my dark hair, tucking a stray strand behind my ear and wondering if I should wet it down. My wavy hair was also fine, which meant it had a tendency to fly away from bobby pins and hairspray. The hair and makeup teams complained every time. “You look how you look. You’re a human. Humans aren’t perfect.” We just pretended to be on TV. Why did I agree to be interviewed? LA Up and Early was the highest rated morning news and entertainment show in greater Los Angeles. It may be amazing exposure for my practice and career, but it was also a massive opportunity to mess up in front of a lot of people. I hated that Mathew Lindberg sent me to be the public face of LA Mind anytime our group therapy practice was invited to speak on mental or emotional health. You agreed because you want to be the best in your field. You’ve worked tirelessly to build a reputation held by respect and admiration. People trust you and listen to you. You have important things to say. Ugh. Being a psychologist was sometimes the worst. The gift of self-awareness balanced with the crippling fear of failure. No amount of accolades or recognition could ever bridge the gap between the two. I was well aware of my flaws and lived in a world where admitting or acknowledging them was a sin. LA rewarded perfection. Smiling and checking my teeth again, I took a deep breath and smoothed down my blouse. Time to go. I opened the door just as Caroline held her fist up to knock, dodging and avoiding a black eye. “Sorry!” She grabbed my elbow and tugged me down the hallway, hardly giving me a moment to recover and not even a shared high-five for my deft avoidance of a punch. “Ramon and Darcy get murderous if guests are a fraction of a millisecond late.” Standing at the edge of a brightly lit stage setup, she gestured toward the two talk show hosts. Each sat side by side behind a single mahogany desk. Two mugs and a stack of cue cards were the only items on the desk, and a stylist stood behind each host and adjusted their hair and makeup with no acknowledgement from either of them. Ramon DeSilva, with dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin, looked handsome in his navy three-piece suit. Darcy Martin looked flawless in a hot pink pantsuit and slicked back blonde hair. They instructed me to wear something neutral. No jewelry that might catch a glare. A cream blouse and black slacks seemed reasonable enough. “You’ll take the seat to the left of Ramon.” Frowning as she spoke, Caroline pressed a button on her headset. “Any chance to change the seating after break to put the guest next to Darcy? Right side to the camera is not her best angle.” “Are you talking about me?” I whisper-hissed. “What’s wrong with my right side?” She gave no response, waiting for the stage cue that cameras were on commercial break. “Thirty seconds,” she counted down. The buzzing was disorienting. The live crowd cheered and shouted as they played a game with the interns in the audience, keeping them pumped up and