Day Ten: Just Breathe

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Just breathe. Just keep breathing.

It has been less than 24 hours since I almost attempted suicide. We are in the van and headed to a local botanical gardens for a family photo shoot with my parents. The five of us are dressed in semi-matching outfits that feature khaki, white, and red as an accent colour. It is a picture perfect late June morning -- sun shining in a crystal blue sky with a few white clouds floating lazily along. It is warm, but not oppressive just yet and I am immersed deeply in the music that is pouring through my earbuds.

I really don't feel like doing this today. But there is no way out. This photo shoot has been scheduled for a good two months and how would I explain my inability to do this to my parents without telling them how depressed I've been? I am so tired and my mask is very thin today. I don't know that I can smile for pictures and pretend that the world is the same place that it was before yesterday. My world has been shaken so hard that it feels dizzyingly upside down and backwards. I feel my stomach lurch with anxiety as we get closer to the gardens. I didn't eat anything this morning, but that is nothing new. I could do with a bit more coffee though.

We arrive at the gardens and after a final glance in the mirror to check my hair and makeup, I take a few deep breaths and get out of the van. Gray extracts GB from her car seat and situates her in the stroller along with her diaper bag and a separate bag I've brought along with snacks and a few other possible necessities for being outside and doing a photo shoot. As we walk through the parking lot, I let out an audible sigh and Gray says softly, "You going to be okay, hon?" I look at his concerned face and remember yesterday evening after he arrived at Sif's place. We sat by the side of the pool with Sif and talked for a solid hour while the kids swam and he could hardly take his eyes off me. After we got home, he stayed by my side and we fell asleep clinging to each other. I think he was afraid to let me out of his sight for fear that the darkness might steal me away.

I shake off the ghosts of yesterday with another deep breath which I exhale sharply and bite my lower lip. I nod and give him a meaningful look. "Don't have much choice, do I?" I reply and he lets go of the stroller with one hand and reaches over to squeeze mine. It is a familiar gesture of comfort, loyalty, and steadfastness. It says so many things to me in the space of seconds while our hands touch and embrace, fingers entwined.

I love you. I'm here. I've got your back. We're in this together. You can do this. I know you don't want to and don't feel like it and I'm sorry we have to. We are one flesh. I love you. 

The gate to the gardens comes into view and I shift into mommy mode, grabbing a hand of each of our two big girls as we enter an area busy with cars. As my hands grasp theirs, I also shift into actress mode. My well-practised mask that shows the world that I am well, thriving, and normal locks into place. I take another deep breath and we enter the gardens to face the music.

Later, at home, I collapse into bed, exhausted by the morning's activities. The photo shoot went well and I don't think anyone suspected for a moment that I had come so close to dying not quite 24 hours ago. I smiled, laughed, and played the part of the well-adjusted wife, mother, and human being quite well, but the price is that I have no energy left at all. If I'm being honest though, only part of my exhaustion stems from the photo shoot and lunch afterwards and all the pretending to be something I am not. The rest of it comes from looking ahead to Tuesday when I have my next appointment with Pendragon. I am dreading it almost more than I dreaded today. I know that I have to tell him what happened. I don't know how I am going to tell him. I don't even know if I can. All I know is that just the thought of saying it out loud makes me want to crawl into our bedroom closet and hide.

Oh help.