Fragile: When Depression Strikes

Sinking into depression again. All the physical cues were there. It was one of the first things she noticed about him. He peered out from beneath it with a variety of expressions, disdain, defiance, shyness or like today, a kind of morose sadness. Something invested in itself. For years, bored, miserable, abused at home, bullied at school, he’d floundered. They’d all worked together to get him on track. The improvement had been nothing short for miraculous.

Just about three weeks, and now his grades were dropping, hygiene failing, blank expression returning. It made her angry, yes, but mostly it made her feel sad and powerless. She’d been so overcome by those feelings that she’d called her own therapist. Therapy only works when the patient is a willing participant. The patient has to want help. And we have to recognize our limitations. Our boundaries. Sometimes you could stop it, sometimes you couldn’t.

There’s so much pride in his voice. She wanted to feel happy for him. He was a sensitive kid, picked up on her lack of enthusiasm. She tried to quash her own anxiety, stay level. She forced herself to breathe in and out before answering, hoping the silence would let the exchange echo back at him. She got lost in her own thoughts for a second, didn’t know if that was true or not. The rumors and gossip were endless, where someone wasn’t whispering about it. She was eager to leave.

I have always been afraid of him, even when I loved him. I am sorry to say that. I want a life where no one hits me. It was, as far as she was concerned. He’d been severely depressed. He seemed to have the right supervision. He looked above her now, not at her, still avoiding her eyes. Let’s cut through it, shall we? What’s going on? She asked.

When he looked back, he was smiling. She’d always liked his smile, sweet and boyish, as unexpectedly bright as a ray of sunlight through thunderhead. But this smile was ugly, sent a slight shiver through her. She gave him a tolerant, slow blink to show him that she was neither intimidated by him nor impressed.

He issued a strange little chuckle. She put on her best cool smile, held his eyes. The corners of his mouth fell in a pantomime of sadness. His eyes went wide, as if she was about to cry. Then narrowed down, ugly with distrust and anger. She tried not to sound desperate, pleading. She wants to wrap him up and hold him tight. But she couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t be able to accept that kind of love, even if she could offer it to him. She’d never witnessed the tendency for violence in him. What had happened? What had changed? She sat for a full minute with her heart a turbine engine in her chest before she got up.

#Fragile