You Must Be the One

Tan-Healing 1/2

I sometimes have to
raise my hand and block
the sun,
capture it, feel its warmth
cupped in the hand,
so i can use my eyes to
peer into the screen;
indeed the moon
is an easier orb to appreciate;
you can't find anyone
tanning in its light.

-Mateus Conrad

The funny thing about being ill, in any capacity, is that you don't realize how bad off you are until you see the reaction on someone else's face.

At first, it's pity. Concern. What can they do to help? Once you reject their offers, though, because of pride or whatever else, it changes. Contempt, for not taking care of yourself. Revulsion. Gratefulness that it's you and not them. 

Eventually, they all asking. Avoidance becomes commonplace. It doesn't hurt as much as you think it would when everyone gives up on you. You've pretty much given up on yourself, too.

Depression runs in my family. My mom's suffered through bouts of it over the years, my sister. I know when things are going south for me because it becomes very hard to care about much. Projects get pushed aside, eating becomes a chore, my place begins to resemble the city dump.

The glaring difference between now and years ago is that I have my daughter. She's my saving grace, my sunshine when there's nothing else but storm clouds, the motivation for pulling myself up. I don't find solace in the bottom of a bottle anymore because I can't. I won't. I won't do that to her, not even if my demons are shouting to deafen me.

So when I know it's starting to become bleak, I scale back on commitments, I spend all my free time with Lea, focusing on her. I make myself eat because I cook for her. We talk and play and then it gradually gets better. I have a therapist I know I can call if I need to, medication I take. The light creeps in.

Irina's really great about letting me take her an extra day or two when I'm low. The routine, taking her to school, picking her up, going to the park, it helps immensely.

But it's winter break and after Christmas, Irina took Lea to Europe. I know she's in good hands and it's only for a week and a half. It's selfish, a little, because she'll have a wonderful time, but without her here, it's extremely quiet. Too quiet.

All the holding it together I've been doing over the holidays was strictly for Lea's benefit. Any joy I found in them over the past few years was from seeing them through her eyes. There was something sad about the continuous bitter cold of winter, the shorter days, the near constant darkness and it bled right into my bones. I couldn't enjoy much about the season and with Lea momentarily gone, it was easy to collapse into myself again.

Irina checked in with Lea, just knowing I needed to hear her voice. My mother and sister. Dax and Kristen. I wasn't alone, I never would be and I knew that just that fact made me far luckier than most people. I didn't feel sorry for myself; how could I? But I knew I wasn't doing well, that I was isolating myself.

Two days after Christmas, two days after Lea left with her mother, I can barely look at myself in the mirror without being horrified by my own reflection. I'm pale and thin, sickly. The people closest to me are concerned, but I can even keep them at bay with excuses. Overworked, overtired, too busy to eat or slow down and for the most part, they buy it.

One person. One person who wasn't fooled, no matter what I told them (or didn't). They could always read between the lines of a text, the tone of my voice. Fought their own battles everyday, so they knew how it was to be dying on the inside.

I should be reading a script. I'd promised I would and I'm trying; propped up in bed. But all I see is a blur on the page where words should reside. I'm stuck on the first sentence and I read it over and over, struggling to make any sense of it. There's nothing but stickiness where the synapses of my brain should be firing off and with a long sigh, I give up, tossing the entire cursed thing to the floor.