We had decided, P and I, that in our world, in which ‘I don’t feel okay’ was a frequent feeling, it could be summed in ‘bleep’. Bleep made going to her with open wounds and rubble stuck in flesh easier; it did not need words, or articulation, and did not make you feel needy and vulnerable. So if I felt sad, I would call out Bleep. If I felt overwhelmed and did not know where to go, bleep. When I am alone, and it’s hard to breathe, bleep. Mum is not okay, I want to stop existing now, please. bleep. bleep.
Bleep. I have been for a while now. But this bleep is different in its texture and weight. It’s slow and comes in parts, so I can’t text R, call A or, holler at P when it hits because it doesn’t. It comes over like sleep. I brought this bleep on myself too. I got ahead of myself. On the energy and well-being lent to me by medicines, I decided to reduce the dose on my own. I, who scolded her mother for skipping medicines, pleaded with my sister to take hers and thought myself better.
I was wrong. My head ached, like electricity running through my thoughts, ringing a doorbell, shrill and unnerving, reminding my brain it is still not capable of producing all the healthy chemicals it ought to. I opened the door to self-doubt, lowering faith and patience. I welcomed them like a good hostess my uninvited relatives. I saw around myself, things of art, or passion and great will, that show strength and attempt to hand down some too (but not to brains with dark spaces for chemicals). Headaches, I realized are easier dealt with, than thoughts of incapability. The borrowed sanity of ‘..but that took time to create, you see the product, not the journey. Have patience’ hid behind curtains and teased “peek-a-boo!”
I messaged A (for the lack of bleep): I feel like a waste of education and good intention. My potential does not have a form, it’s like smoke. Can’t lift.
A: You make me feel empowered by whatever you do.
So I gathered what of my lungs and mind still had the will to cooperate, and set reminders, 9 o’clock, twice everyday ‘Take medicine, please’ and my spinal cord started typing this to tell R, K, A, and everyone else taking care of themselves, you are brave, you empower me.