The Dark Day

      The black cloud hung suspended over the day. The sun was shining outside, but who wanted to look at that? So the windows remained closed and the curtains drawn. Not one ounce of sunshine was going to make it into the apartment. She merely rolled over in bed and pulled the covers up. With a pillow over her face she drifted in and out of an uneasy doze. Too awake to actually sleep, but too tired to get out of bed. She was just so damned tired. It occurred to her that she could have slept too much and was now overtired. But at the moment she just didn’t care. That was the problem with her brain. She logically knew what was happening but was powerless to stop it. She knew the fog wasn’t real, and that she would most likely feel better if she could just get up and make herself do something. But the bed was warm, the pillows comfortable, and there was nothing that absolutely needed to get done. So she snuggled in and stayed there until the urge to pee was too much. Because what comfy, cozy morning isn’t ruined by the need to get up and pee?

            Once she is out of bed, the light in the kitchen makes her more alert and she knows she can’t go back to bed. The spell is broken; the bed has lost its thrall. So she makes her daily lemon water and contemplates breakfast. Since it is almost noon she thinks about lunch, but breakfast is delicious no matter the time. She settles on an omelette but soon realizes she has eaten all the good vegetables. Can nothing go right today? Not to be discouraged, she uses the last egg and the remaining egg whites to make herself a small omelette. It isn’t the best, but it’ll do. The problem now is that she knows what is going to happen. Being in the house alone, she needs sound to keep her company. She isn’t reading a book at the moment, so she turns on the tv. It is a slippery slope because she knows that once she starts watching tv she runs the risk of being trapped. But she thinks she can handle it. She starts a show and thinks to herself “just one episode while I eat”. But one episode becomes 2 and two becomes 3. She doesn’t know where the time went and before she knows it she is 5 episodes in. Her body is uncomfortable from having been on the couch for so long. She even has developed a bad headache. But that just makes it worse. Because now her head hurts too much for her to do anything else. So she stretches out on the couch to change positions and hopefully alleviate the headache. And then she watches 5 more episodes. All the while she knows in one part of her brain that this is wrong. She wants to get up. She is doing so good exercising. She should work out. She should clean a little bit. She still hasn’t made the bed or washed the breakfast dishes. Baby steps right? So after episode 10, she gets up to start doing something. But upon standing she realizes she is starving. There are healthy foods in the house, she should eat those. Make a proper lunch. Instead she heats up some leftovers. Semi healthy, so it isn’t terrible. What is bad though, is she eats a few pieces of banana bread while they heat up. Chocolate chip banana bread. Then she grabs for the chips and eats a couple of those. All the while knowing she is making bad choices. As she sits to eat, she starts another episode. The man is staying at work late that night, so it buys her time before she has to make dinner. Still, she pushes it as far as she can before she makes herself go to the store for the chicken. The whole way there, and back, she berates herself for being so lazy. There is still time to work out. It just takes as little as 15 minutes. But the walk to the store, a mere 3 blocks, has sapped all her energy. She comes home and doesn’t even have the motivation to put the few groceries away. This is getting to be pathetic. She knows it, and hates herself for it. And yet, that doesn’t change anything. Mind over matter her butt, she thinks. Her mind often makes her feel terrible on these days. And yet matter always wins and she always ends up on the couch. Clearly the day before demonstrated that. She awoke early that day, and started out productively. Yet she still napped more than once in between getting things done. Now maybe she was just extra tired. But more likely, there was something wrong. It was the signs of a darker day to come. And this was that day. It was a day where no amount of mental abuse was going to get her off the couch. She felt blah, and listless. She had no energy, no motivation, and no desire to move. Actually, the last wasn’t true because the desire to be different is always there. But she has learned that it is exhausting to fight those feelings. And the times when she needs to fight the hardest are the times when her energy is lowest. It is a never ending, and losing battle. So she accepts that she will just have days where no light can get in. And there are days where she craves the light like air. There are terms that could be applied to her thought processes, but why label herself. Maybe someday those low days will go away. But for now, she will deal with them as they come.

The Window

           There once was a window at the back of a house that nobody could explain. It appeared to be a standard window, even boring in appearance. It was painted a pale yellow, as though the color had faded from the sun even though it was at the back of the house and never got much sun. The new owners place a pink curtain on it to match the room but didn’t bother with any other changes because this window was different in a small way: it didn’t open. They couldn’t explain why and couldn’t fix it either so they just hung their curtain and left it alone. Jenny, the lady of the house, was even a little relieved because a window that didn’t open made her daughter Mya’s playroom a little safer in her mind. What Jenny and her family didn’t know however, was this window was a magic window. Every so often the curtains would rustle, which was impossible since no wind could get through the closed pane. As time went on, and the little girl grew, her playroom evolved with her. It went from blocks and Little Tykes toys to Barbies, stuffed animals, and tea sets. One bright day, the little girl was having a tea party with all her favorite “friends”. Her small table was surrounded by her best bears, unicorns, and even her favorite doll. Just as she was serving her favorite stuffed Dolphin Harry, the curtains began to blow in a breeze that wasn’t there. Being a curious child, she jumped up to explore. She ducked under the curtains and instead of her backyard she saw a beautiful beach. Mya had been to the beach a few times with her family and remembered it to be lots of fun. On this day, she felt a cool sea breeze on her face as the sun warmed her cheeks. And she listened to the sound of the ocean. Not wasting any time, little Mya clamored up and through the window. As she landed in the soft white sand, she saw the most amazing thing she had ever seen. Just there, lying in the sun was a real, live, mermaid. She had long blonde hair and a tail made of different hues of greens, blues, and teals. As she lay there sunning, she flipped her tail up and down causing he scales to shimmer in the light. Mya let out a gasp and the pretty mermaid’s eyes popped open. When she saw little Mya, her sparkling amethyst eyes crinkled as she smiled. After the initial greetings, they became like old friends. They shared hugs, laughs, and secrets. Asherah and Mya then spent the day frolicking in the sea. The water must have been magic because Mya could spend all day in the water with ease. So the new friends hunted for seashells, sunned themselves on huge rocks, and even swam with dolphins. As the sun began to set, it was time for Mya to climb back through the window towards home. She was sad to go because it was the best day ever, but she knew her mom was probably worried. Mya had spent the whole day on this beautiful beach and her mother probably thought she had run away. So she climbed up through the window and landed in her playroom with a small thud just as her mom came in to check on the progress of her tea party. Mya started to open her mouth to apologize for being gone so long but realized her mom wasn’t mad or frantic or anything. Jenny just had a puzzled look on her face as she noticed the white sand on the floor. Mya realized that time on the beach must be magic too because almost no time had passed since she left her playroom. But Mya was an honest little adventurer and proceeded to regale her mother with the events of her day. When Mya finished, her mom just ruffled her hair and chuckled at her daughter’s imagination. But as she turned to leave the room, the curtain fluttered and she could swear she almost heard waves.

It's All in How You Look at Things

Today I was working on a free writing exercise for my writing class. The one concept that remained in my brain was the idea of perspective. Everybody has a different one no matter what the topic. You can share something vital with a person and still have a different perspective. My sister and I share a family but are 2 different people. We have many things in common and share many interests, but we approach much of life differently. We can read the same book and both love it, but for very different reasons. My cousin and I are less than 1 year apart. We grew up together. The same people were in our lives and we went through the 90’s at the same age. Yet him and I are totally different people with different perspectives on everything. He lives with his (wonderful) girlfriend and their (beautiful/awesome) daughter. They are happy with their lives, content to not be married, and adore their girl. If you knew her, you would adore her too. I, on the other hand, live with my boyfriend and would like to someday be married and have no burning desire for children. Both ways of living are right for who we are, but each of those facts effects how we approach life. When a couple has a communication issue, many times, a therapist will force them to walk in the other person’s shoes. It is something that usually helps, but can never be done completely. I can sit and try to think of something the way my guy would. But there is no way to absolutely know how he would think of something because I don’t have his life experiences.  This is not a bad thing. It is what makes the world unique and diverse. But think about it, can you ever really know what someone is thinking? As humans, we can speak to each other and try to explain what is in our heads. I can tell you that it makes me sad when someone dies in a movie. A person who is mute can communicate the same thing by crying. Language and communication help us interact with each other. Yet if you think about it, this can be a barrier too. I can’t communicate with words how I am feeling to someone who doesn’t speak/understand English. And even if I could speak another language, there may still be some things I miss. I could teach myself how to speak Italian with some ease. Yet if I were to go to Italy, I would still miss out on things because I am not a native Italian. My brain would still be thinking in English and translating that to Italian. Now as far as communicating goes, that would be helpful. But it would change my perspective still. I would miss some intricacies that maybe don’t translate because the languages and cultures are different. I can never truly know how a person from Italy thinks just I can never know what a dog thinks. As humans, we assume was can understand how different animals feel/think based on studying them. But we are assigning traits to them based on how we think/feel as humans. Dogs mourn the loss of their humans. Or so we believe. This is something that we ascribe to them based on their reactions. But dogs can’t talk to us, and we can never know for sure if this is how they feel because we can never think like them. We have never been a dog. I could go on for hours, but it would all come down to the same thing. Don’t ever assume something because your perspective is different from that of everyone and everything. So always approach life with an open mind and try to live it the way that makes the most sense to you based on your perspective.