(unedited) It is strange being on the outside looking in at something I have spent so much of my life grappling with. When someone says “I don’t want to be here” it resonates for clearly within me, whether suicidal in that moment or not. sadly this dog salivates at that bell. every time. Life hasn’t been great around here. Stress looms and life soars out beyond my control as it often does. Her words ricocheted around my skull. I felt my pulse race off. “ok, then we need to get your meds sorted out”. this calm voice, so very far from the emotional roiling going on within me. “maybe the hospital would be a good spot to do that”. That sent her off. I backed off. went back to the meds. “We’ll sort it out. I promise” I felt I could reassure her. That calm quiet confident voice told her that. Within I envisioned her death, her funeral her end. All while I quietly tried to give her some sense of calm. I saw myself on Virgil’s couch decimated by her ending. Whether natural or not. I saw the reality that she will be gone, just as my father will be. I’ll be alone.
I watched as she walked away. I felt so shaken and anxious. I have seen her like this before and my rational side tells me she isn’t going anywhere. That her thoughts are passive and she isn’t planning. She is okay for today. But am I right? What if I am wrong? I started making phone calls, sending emails. May? what? your first available appointment is May of next year? 6 months from now? I think my jaw hit the counter. I hung up. paced the kitchen. tried to salvage what was left of my rationality in that moment. I walked to the barn and tried to act like the world was normal. That my mother didn’t want to be dead. That the day was like all the others. no better, no worse. I held on for a bit but made a fast retreat for the house. I could not keep myself together. So very much was moving within me. My body ached from the long 14 miles I pushed it into yesterday and a run today was out of the question. I knew it was too stupid to try. I went for the hot bath and a good book. I climbed out of my skull and into the courtroom of Grisham;s creation. Thankful for that. Sadly the world crashed back the moment I walked out the bathroom door. Restless and uneasy I find myself writing because I don’t know what else to do.
I know what it feels like when your meds are all fucked up and your head is a wreck. I know the feeling of physical illness as your body craves a drug it doesn’t have. I fully know that feeling yet there is nothing I can do to fix it. I wish I could reach within her head and shuffle around the serotonin and dopamine. Stop her shakes and anxiety. To allow her to feel better and not so hopeless. Yet part of me understands her desire to walk away. I guess I am far from well.