Realizing that my antidepressant was working felt like a gift from the universe.
Here, take this happiness. You’ve earned it.
But when I told Charlotte that, she reminded me that if the universe is in charge of my happiness because I’ve earned it, it also means the universe gave me pain because I deserved it. And I know better. I don’t deserve pain. Or sadness.
My depression was a black hole, swallowing my soul and leaving a husk in its place, destroying all the things that were good about me with its insatiable mouth.
Now, it’s a protostar. Almost too small and new for its light to be seen. But even if it’s not seen, it’s there. Warming me from the inside out and getting ready. Growing and building until it can truly shine.
And that’s how I know that even though today is a rough day, I’ll be alright. When Hunter gets back from the feed store, I’ll tell him that my mind is a bad place today. I’ll let him hold me up and support me. Because he wants to. Because helovesme.
I’ll call Luca. I’ll talk to Arlo. Hell, I’ll find Millie. I’ll use my support system. I won’t allow that black hole to suck me back in. Not this time.
Even with all my years of therapy, I have something now that I never did before. Community. Well, and antidepressants. Butcommunity.Depression demands that you hide. That you shy away from love and help and friends and family. It takes and takes and takes. Until you’re surrounded by the dark nothingness of your life, ready for it to be over, and wondering how you even ended up there to begin with.
I don’t have to stand alone in the dark nothing anymore. I have people to help me find my way to the sunshine now.
Flipping to the next page of the photo album, I smile through my tears, staring at a photo of my mom at one of my birthday parties. Her dark curly hair was pinned up on her head, fingers coated in frosting from the cake she’d just cut.
She looked beautiful. My stomach rolls violently. What I wouldn’t give to have those days back. No Damien. No pain. No scar. But… then also no Hunter. No sex in front of mirrors. No sweet, soft, contented love. No Luca or Arlo. No laughing at the diner. Or whispering with Luca in the back about the old man, Burt, and his new girlfriend that he keeps bringing in for lunch.
I shake my head. No. For the first time in maybe forever, I’m content. Maybe my life didn’t turn out the way I thought it would. But really, what more do I need? I’mhappy,and I’m alive. That’s more than some people get.
Soft footsteps pull my attention, and I sit up straighter, wiping at my eyes again before snapping the photo album closed.
Millie takes one look at me, and her brows draw together. “Hey, Theo. You doin’ alright?”
I start to nod. But then, wasn’t Ijustthinking about how nice it is to have people to rely on? Shaking my head instead, I croak out, “I’m not sure, really.”
Millie knows a little about my mental health. She knows enough to know that I take an antidepressant. She also knows they upset my stomach if I take them without food, so she makes sure I have breakfast every morning. I love her. But she also makes me miss my own mom. In a soul-deep, heart-wrenching way.
Walking across the room, she sits down next to me, gesturing to the photo album. “What have you got there?”
I hand it over without a word, and after watching my face for a second, she opens it.
The first few photos are of my mom and dad holding a newborn me, their eyes filled with exhaustion and pure joy. They progress. Toddler, young kid, middle schooler. All the way into high school.
I watch as she flips through them all. And when she’s done, she closes the album and hands it back to me. “Thank you for showing that to me.”
“You’re welcome.” I’m not sure if that was the right thing to say, but it feels like the only thing Icansay.
Relaxing against the couch, she crosses her legs. “Do you still talk to your parents?”
“No.” The word comes out croaky, so I clear my throat. “I haven’t seen them since I was eighteen.”
“Would you like to share why?”
God, how do I even begin to explain? “Well, when I was eighteen, I started working at this law firm. That’s where I met Damien.” She shifts so she can watch me. “Anyway, they knew pretty much right from the start he was bad news.”
“Mmm,” she muses. “Parents are good at seein’ those things.”
I nod, throat tightening. “And rebellious teens are good at ignoring their parents.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile. “They can be. That’s all part of growing up and learnin’.”
That’s true enough, I suppose, but still. “I just wish that lesson wouldn’t have come so late.”
“Have you thought about reaching out to them?”
