Falling Colors

Chapter Forty-Three: Cleo Was One of Us

Cleo Was One of Us  

       "Today you can all relax," Cleo said, leaning farther back in her metal folding chair.  "No exercises, or talking is going to have to be done on your part.  Today I'm doing it all.  How does that sound?"  

      Everyone exchanged a leery glance.  Was it a good thing she was doing all the talking today or would it end with one of us breaking down again?  Was Cleo really telling the truth we could relax?  

     I was the only one who hadn't gone and told my terrible backstory yet.  I wasn't planning on going any time soon.  I wasn't ready for that.  I wasn't ready to talk or even revisit what had pushed me over the edge.  I didn't want to feel all those emotions tear through my body again.  Not when I was starting to feel settled.  

      "So I've never been very good at starting stories," Cleo began.  "And I don't think now is going to be an exception.  I'm uncomfortable talking about myself and having everyone watch me, but before I make myself more comfortable."  She paused and rolled up the baggy sleeves of her shirt.  "I want you all to look at these."   

       The uneven white scars I'd seen before when she had spoken to me one on one were visible to everyone now.  They started at her wrists, and traveled higher and higher up her arm.  She finished rolling the sleep up near her shoulder.  That's where the scars stopped.   

      "Get a good look.  I want you to remember how ugly these look.  How ugly I must have felt to give these to myself.  How ugly the world must have seemed to me when I decided to not only try to kill myself but destroy my body."   

      The whole group stared at Cleo's arms.  They were ugly.  I thought mine were bad, but hers were much worse.  They were thicker and more ragged and in some place there were three lines on her arm.  They were deep scars, the skin hadn't completed healed and it left an indentation on her skin.  

      She rolled her sleeves down slowly then looked over at Wiley.  "Could you go turn off the lights, please?"  

     Wiley nodded, and got up from his spot and turned off the lights.   

      Darkness.  I could only see the silhouettes of everyone.   

       "When I was fifteen years old, I had my first panic attack.  I can't tell you what triggered it at that moment, but it wasn't just one thing.  It was everything.  Everything going on in my life was just too much and my body didn't know how to handle it anymore.  My throat began to close off, my heart began pounding so hard I thought it was going to burst out of my chest.  My ears rang.  My eyes stung.  I'm sure ya'll know what I'm talking about.  You've all felt it.  You probably still feel it.  The feeling of a panic never goes away, it's always there.  At least that's how it is for me.  

      "Anyways, that was panic attack numero uno.  There were many more after that.  And there were many breakdowns that happened after it and many tears shed.  And so much blood lost due to self-harm.  So much."  Cleo's voice was shaking.  I had never heard her sound so defeated and weak and scared.  She didn't sound like the Cleo I knew.  

        "I don't want to tell you why I was having panic attacks, that's not important.  What is important is that ya'll know I was one of you.  I've been there.  I've held the knife to my wrist.  I've popped the pills.  I've felt alone.  I've felt found and lost again.  I've felt it all."  

     She let out a loud sigh.  "The point of this is so you don't feel alone.  You shouldn't ever feel alone because of your depression.  You're not alone.  More than 350 million people suffer from this disease.  Or that's what Google says.  

     "… It gets better.  It really does.  I know right now you don't think it ever will.  You have your good days, but then you'll have another ten bad days.  It feels easier to just not have to deal with this.  The constant state of fear where you're going to fall in again... It gets better.  

      "One day you'll realize all those people and things you think you hate and are the reason for your unhappiness... they aren't.  You are the reason and you hate yourself for it.  You hate yourself so fucking much.  If there is enough hate two things can happen: You either change or you don't."  Her silhouette shrugged.  "Sounds simple, right? It's not.  It's the hardest thing you will ever do.  Some people can't do it, and that's not okay.  It's not okay that you can't better, do you understand?  

     "There is no such thing as "the incurable case".  You are all curable.  You just need to want it so badly there's nothing stopping you.  You find that scrap of happiness and you hold on to it, and don't you ever let the hell go of it.  You hold on to it so tight that it exhausts you.  You hold on so tight that it becomes part of you.  The only thing that can cure depression is happiness, and it's out there for everyone.  There's enough to go around, believe me."  

       I rolled my lips into my mouth.  I had to find my happiness.  

       "I didn't change until long after I had destroyed and broken myself beyond repair.  Exactly how all of you are now.  I'm not going to say I was any better or worse than you all are or have been, because depression is not a competition.  Depression is not a one-to-ten scale.  Depression is equal for everyone.  My depression is just as relevant as yours.   

     "I am going to compare my getting over depression to a fall tree.  

      "All of the leaves are colors and clinging to the tree in hopes of staying forever -- these are the nasty thoughts and emotions ringing through your head all the time.  A breeze comes by then, it's strong and starts to tug at the leaves, it starts pulling at them and stripping them away one by one, and then it turns into clumps of leaves falling off and eventually the tree is bare.  You are bare.  You're free.  But you aren't happy.  You're bare and have nothing filling you.  Nothing making you full and healthy.   

      "Eventually Spring comes, and the tree sprouts buds, and they turn into leaves and it begins to fill out again.  It's healthy and green.  It stays this way for a long time.  It stays happy and healthy.  The winter comes again and starts stripping the leaves away, but it's not bad.  The tree understands it has to let go of the past so it can look forward to the new leaves that are going to come in the Spring.   

     "You have to understand to move forward and get better and stay better you need to let go of the past."  

      Let go of the past.  

      "I am a tree.  And my past is the falling colors."  

       Even though I couldn't see anyone right then, I knew we were all crying.  Not a bad cry.  A cry of hope.  Hope that one day we would be able to let go of our leaves and grow new ones. 

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Thank you so much for reading!  

Okay I know I said last chapter there were going to be 8 chapter left, but after reviewing my outline from over a year ago, I don't like the 8 chapters I had planned out.  They don't fit right.  So new plan: there are two chapters left.  One flashback and then the end.  

Thank you so much everyone who has read this far and stayed with this story.  It has taken a very long time to write this and I know updates were not very frequent, so to those of you who have stuck with me through this whole year a half of writing this story:  Thank you.  Thank you so much.  You are amazing. 

P.S. This is unedited