Erliss is about honesty, addictions, 12 steps, recovery, depression, trauma, and anxiety. Dark night of the soul crap. She exudes existential exuberance, and sarcasm. She tries to observe it all with compassion, even though that makes her eyes roll.
Melancholia in Blue: First Movement
In bed.
The time is 12:03. PM. My husband walked in the bedroom and opened the blinds about an hour ago.
“I will be out soon.” I told him.
I am a liar.
Scrolling through Facebook, I see a pianist friend posted his video of Clapton’s “Tears in Heaven.”
I listen to his fingers sing “Will you know my name, if I saw you in heaven…”
Today is Memorial Day.
Am I dead? I feel dead…
I reach over the queen sheets and press my hand on the mattress…
Press, Erliss.
Ppppppressssssssssssssss.
The trees outside…I turn to them. “Please pull me out to you” I beg. But they pretend not to hear me. They exchange some secret words and continue staring into my window, mocking my condition.
The world continues despite my absence.
I can’t feel outside of my stomach – it’s a ball of stone. Cold Stone. I hate that place. Not “hate” hate, but I spent a lot of money there once and the ice cream did not taste like ice cream. For 8 dollars I can buy a bag of m&ms, satisfy my “fight” impulses by pulverizing them with a hammer, and mash them into Neapolitan ice cream with some baby kale, dried quinoa, and orange rind.
I would save five dollars, have leftovers, and it would taste better.
I know what you are thinking: “ADHD girl.” Well fuck ADHD. It’s not fun this morning. Or this afternoon. Or whatever time of day it is. Who cares – I can’t get out of bed, and don’t want to breathe my next breath – and even there, I have no choice.
The body wants to breathe. Not wants to as in desire or longing. If you hold your breath with the intention of never letting it out to bring more in, your body doesn’t care.
YOUR BODY DOESN’T NEED YOUR CONSENT TO BREATHE.
When I was little I would inhale and keep the air in place – it was my super power. If I held my breath long enough I could turn invisible, then no one could find me.
It’s not true. You can still be found, no matter how long you hold your breath.
No matter how much you try to keep the whistle of air from leaving your throat, it will whistle eventually because YOUR BODY DOESN’T NEED YOUR DAMNED CONSENT TO BREATHE AND MAKE NOISE SO YOU LOSE…YOU LOSE…
your
little
self
is
l o s t.
I curl into a ball, scream in my mind, thrash my head against an imaginary brick wall.
But in reality, in the realm of bodies and physical-ness, I am frozen.
If only I could stretch out my hand and touch something…
It’s now after one p.m.
My husband returns.
I…need…help… I mumble.
He takes off the blankets, pats my legs, moves them to the side of the bed, pulls my arms so I sit up, then he stands me up and holds me until I feel my feet on the floor.
I press my cheek against his chest, and whisper
I am up now.
Thank you for listening.
Much love,
Erliss
2 thoughts on “Melancholia in Blue: First Movement”
Oh, Erliss, sometimes I could swear you’re the only one who understands. Thank you for sharing it today. I need it right now. I usually succeed in keeping the tears locked up, but for a week I’ve been crying every day. Nobody says anything, even in therapy group, because they don’t know what to say to the girl with wet cheeks, who sits quietly for the whole time except to blow her nose occasionally. I keep asking myself Why? What’s the matter? You don’t even have first world problems…. But you know. There is no why. It just is. I’m so glad you have the hubs to lift you up, otherwise I would fear for you. And I have the move today, from the post-hospital motel room back to my now-newly-cleaned apartment. Yet another chance to start over. I’ve started over from scratch so many times. I suppose that’s a kind of hope. Bless you, Erliss.
Cassandra,
Thank you for being honest, and for sharing your truth, your experience, and your tears. I am sadnto hear how you suffer – and so grateful you are on this Earth with us. I’m sending you hugs and love.
Stay connected, dear dear friend. You know…my desperate need to connect is what made me reach out to a stranger in a strange city several years ago… that was one of the most amazing transformative conversations I’ve ever had. 🙂 Thank you.
Love, Erliss
Oh, Erliss, sometimes I could swear you’re the only one who understands. Thank you for sharing it today. I need it right now. I usually succeed in keeping the tears locked up, but for a week I’ve been crying every day. Nobody says anything, even in therapy group, because they don’t know what to say to the girl with wet cheeks, who sits quietly for the whole time except to blow her nose occasionally. I keep asking myself Why? What’s the matter? You don’t even have first world problems…. But you know. There is no why. It just is. I’m so glad you have the hubs to lift you up, otherwise I would fear for you. And I have the move today, from the post-hospital motel room back to my now-newly-cleaned apartment. Yet another chance to start over. I’ve started over from scratch so many times. I suppose that’s a kind of hope. Bless you, Erliss.
Cassandra,
Thank you for being honest, and for sharing your truth, your experience, and your tears. I am sadnto hear how you suffer – and so grateful you are on this Earth with us. I’m sending you hugs and love.
Stay connected, dear dear friend. You know…my desperate need to connect is what made me reach out to a stranger in a strange city several years ago… that was one of the most amazing transformative conversations I’ve ever had. 🙂 Thank you.
Love, Erliss