Dark

I have received a few questions about the ending of March.  Not to spoil it, but it's dark.  The next one, April Undercover, is turning out to be much lighter - Samantha Rialto is in full denial mode.  Denial equals laughter for her.

Not so much for me.  My denial turns into depression.  Last June my father became ill.  Then two months later he passed away.  It was heart-wrenching watching him go.  And now, the horrible permanence of his loss has settled in.

There are shadows of him in the house, but he will never be there again.  I imagine I can hear his voice, but know he'll never call me.  I see people who look like him, but know I'll never see him.  He is gone.

And the NEVER is what digs the hurt in so deep that there are times - like when you're driving to the grocery store to get chocolate milk - that you weep for five minutes straight, and have to blow your nose repeatedly before getting out of your car, and when you do finally get out your legs feel like jello, and all you really want to do is curl up with your favorite pillow, and hide under a blanket...and sleep.

Soon after my father passed, my uncle had a heart attack.  We rushed to Vegas, to the hospital.  I slept on a couch and then a recliner.  I felt like I was watching my family from far outside the room.  I wanted to be there, hold his hand, comfort my cousins, aunt, uncle, mother, but it was so painful to watch and the thought of him leaving too?  Unbearable.

And then months later, on my dad's birthday, he died.

I've heard misery described in a lot of ways, and I've known people (have family and friends) who suffer from depression.  But until this past year, I had not understood what that felt like.  Depressed for me was sleep, the kind of sleep that isn't restful, but necessary.  As if keeping my eyes closed could keep loneliness and loss at bay, like thin sheets of blank paper hide what's written underneath.

It also meant that my skin looked funny.  I no longer recognized my face in the mirror.  My clothes didn't fit.

The funny thing was that I didn't even know I was depressed.  A doctor had to tell me.

Doctor:   There's nothing medically wrong with you.  We've run all the tests.  Your bloodwork came back perfect.

Me:   Then why do I feel so exhausted?  I go to bed tired, I wake up tired, I'm tired the entire day.  I could connect an IV of caffeine directly to my vein and I'd still feel sluggish.  And why is my stomach is always in knots?  Why does my skin feels like the paper you wrap a hot dog in?  I'm pretty sure none of this is good.

Doctor:  When you exercise do you feel better?

Me:  Yes.  For about thirty minutes afterward.  But I haven't been exercising very much lately, because I'm so tired.

Doctor:  Are you depressed?

Me:  Uh...

Doctor:  I could prescribe medication, but I'd just rather you went to the gym.

I recently read a post by Ruby Pearl - (CLICK HERE) And while it is her own tale of her own father's passing, it resonated with me.  Especially the part about how she never really thought he'd go.

...never.

So March was dark.  But just like life, next month will be different.  And, for me, brighter.