Echoes of Life

1

Mental illness is so much more complicated than any pill that any mortal could invent - Elizabeth Wintzel

I woke in the early hours of a cold December day. It was still dark outside, and the frost had coated the windows. My body shivered from the chill as I snuggled further into my thick covers. I was not at all prepared for what the day was going to bring, and I wanted to enjoy the relaxation and comfort of my own bed for a few more minutes.

Today was the day that I, Sigmond Martin, dealt with my problems. Well, one specific problem, my boss. Up to last night I took whatever my boss handed me and shoved it down my throat like a bitter gulp of straight lemon juice. Not today. Last night, my boss called around 10, drunk and spouting insults. He had told me that he needed me to complete the Nexus project before 9 the next morning.

Any other day, I would have stayed up all night to complete the project. Last night something snapped within me. It wasn't the insults, though, my boss had taken a liking to implying I was a "gay boy" lately, due to, I'm sure, my single status and lack of a woman on my arm at business parties. It wasn't the unrealistic expectations either. Something in me just shifted.

I could feel the shift, as if that form of me, the one holding on to a place in the company, was a piece of a glacier that I had watched break off and float away - an iceberg in a vast ocean now.

My second alarm sounded, and I pulled myself from my warm cocoon. Like I did every morning, I reached to my bedside table stacked and scattered with paper, books, and pencils and grabbed the medication, popping it in my mouth like candy and took a swig of the week-old water bottle sitting on the same table.

The medication that numbed me. I wasn't sure if I liked it or not. On one hand I didn't feel the sinking depression quite as bad as before. She certainly didn't cross my mind as often anymore, but I felt numb. The world could come to an end and my reaction would just be a blank stare before my body was blown to bits.

Emilia, my older sister, had encouraged me to seek help 6 months ago. There were times I thought I was seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, possibly thanks to the medication, but it always seemed to be a freight train headed to knock me back down on my ass. I was tired and numb and wasn't sure if I would ever crawl out of this rivet I was in.

I stood and went directly to the bathroom. After releasing my bladder, I peered at the man looking back at me in the mirror. I was 31, but could pass as 40, seeming to have aged overnight half a year ago. My eyes were bloodshot, and the stubble on my chin had a tinge of grey in it. My dark hair appeared lighter today with speckles of red within it.

I let out a sigh and started my morning routine. I was halfway through brushing my teeth when I heard the phone ring from my bed in the room across the hall. I glanced in the direction and then returned to the man in the mirror.

I hated the technology that allowed the world to think you were available 24/7. I anticipated the ping of a text once the call forwarded to voicemail. I was right.

I spit out my toothpaste. The white suds mixed with a tinge of pink making me inspect my gums for a moment. I would need to make a dentist's appointment. It had been a while.

Getting out a new razor, I shaved my peppered stubble. I got into the shower washing away some of the nerves that had formed since first waking up about my near future encounter.

Finishing with the quick shower, I wiped the condensation from the mirror and saw that it had helped. My eyes weren't as red, and I had gained back a couple years.

I went to the closet and picked out one of my normal outfits. I didn't feel like getting overly fancy for this event.

After I made myself up and had felt a bit more confident, I finished my morning routine with a bowl of cereal in the kitchen and a cup of black coffee.