Day Eleven: Breaking the Dam

The rest of the weekend following that horrible day has flown by in a blur and now my appointment with Pendragon is almost upon me. Today is Wednesday and although it has been five days since that horrible event, it seems like it was only a moment ago. I pull into the parking lot at Green Tree Psychiatric, the massive psychiatric group where Pendragon practices. Dr. Alt is a part of this practice and he works closely with Pendragon. The building looms before me as I slide into a space and cut off the engine. I am early and my stomach is twisted in pretzels. I feel nauseated as I step out of the car into the early July heat. The humidity makes the heat feel oppressive, or perhaps that is just the normal heat with the addition of my nerves.

I go inside and check in at the desk. After checking in, I find a chair to sit in and wait and try to blend in with the painted wall behind me. I sit there with my phone, attempting to work a crossword puzzle, but the black and white boxes seem to melt together in front of my eyes and after about a minute, I give trying to solve it and instead, stare down at the app icon covered screen and try not to focus on my heart racing. Instead, I sit there thinking and staring at my lap, hoping against hope that the receptionist will tell me that Pendragon is so sorry but he's going to need to cancel my appointment. I don't want to talk to him. I don't want to tell him all these things and say them out loud. I feel as though ever nerve in my body is standing on end and I am suddenly startled greatly by a voice calling my name. I don't look up. I can't look at him. I hear footsteps as he walks closer to where I am seated and calls my name again. This time I stand up, but still don't look at him and instead, just walk straight past him and into the hallway that leads to his office. 

Once in his office, I discard my sandals and sink, cross-legged into his settee and fold my arms across my chest. I hear him come in, close the door and sit down. I say nothing. He says nothing. There is a noise that sounds like the scratching of a pen on paper. I don't care. I don't want to talk to him about this. I still don't look at him and instead, my gaze rests on my folded arms, carefully studying a freckle and I refuse to speak. We sit like this with me not speaking and him not speaking for a good five minutes or so and finally he says, "So, things are a bit worse than when I saw you last." I inhale shallowly and exhale quietly before finally giving a barely perceptible nod of agreement. Then I sit quietly. Over the course of the next ten or fifteen minutes, he asks questions and I barely nod or give very short, one and two word answers. He is exceedingly patient with my silence and does not pressure me to speak more than I want.

After these ten to fifteen minutes, I find myself a little more able to give answers that are a little longer and while I still cannot look at him, I find myself relaxing a bit more. Eventually, he asks if the suicidal ideation I've been struggling with over the past several months just overwhelmed me and got the better of me. I manage to say, "Yes. That is an understatement" and I swallow hard. Over the course of the next several minutes, with some questions from him, I finally manage to get the whole story out -- the feelings of total numbness, not being able to see or even realise that my children were at home with me (the break with reality), the decision to finally do it, and then being saved by Sif's text message at the last moment before going through with the attempt. At the end of the story, I am left utterly spent and I can feel the muscles in my shoulders, arms, and legs trembling in fright.

****

Pendragon asks me how I'm feeling now in that regard and I tell him honestly that I still want to die. He asks if I have a plan. I reply that I do. He asks if I am serious about this plan and how serious I am. I tell him that it is the plan I would use and that I just want this pain to end. He asks if I think I need to go to the hospital. I barely allow him enough breath to push the word "hospital" out of his mouth before I emphatically say, "No. Hell no. No. I do not want to go to the hospital." Amazingly, he does not ask that question again and does not insist that I do need to go. He makes a note and we move on. We talk about why I want to die and what it would do to those left behind if I were to make that decision. I bristle at this turn of discussion and cross my arms more tightly over my chest. 

At some point during the telling of the story, I managed to look up at him, but this discussion makes me so uncomfortable that not only do I look away, but I want to withdraw so deeply into myself that I just disappear from sight altogether. Pendragon asks me to look at it from a different perspective. He says that if my eldest daughter, M², were seriously ill with something like cancer, wouldn't I do everything in my power to help her get well? I nod and wonder where he is going with this. "Of course, I would." Then he asks me why I would do that. The answer is simple. Love. I would do it because I love her beyond anything that I can begin to explain. I would do it because she and her sisters are my heart. I tell Pendragon all of this. He says, "you would do anything, even sell your car or your house if it meant you could save her life, right?" 

I feel the all too familiar sensation of needing to cry welling up in me, but again, there are no tears. I say in a choked voice, "I would give up my life for her if it meant she would live." I am feeling that fierce momma bear love that is willing to protect, defend, and give everything for her cubs. M2 is not even in the room and I feel suddenly fiercely protective of her. 

Pendragon looks at me and says, "That's exactly how she feels about you."

I sit looking at him and several moments pass where I can barely breathe as his words penetrate through the darkness like a knife.

"Oh my God, what have I done? What have I done?" I whisper. My breaths are growing more rapid and more shallow and a great anguish comes over me, the likes of which I have felt many times throughout this season of depression, but this is different.

This is different. 

That momma bear love melts into a despair so overpowering, I think that I may lose my ability to speak or think. A torrent of emotions rushes through me and something hot courses down my cheeks. 

Tears.

I am crying. Tears are streaming down my cheeks, dampening my shirt, dripping onto my arms. I press my hands to my face and the flood of emotions and tears continues. I am sobbing, shoulders heaving, and can barely breathe. I gasp over and over again and it is such a loud sound that I am sure that anyone passing by Pendragon's office door would easily hear it. I am crying so hard that I am whimpering and even let out a groan of emotion. Amidst all of these tears and before the words even pass through my brain, I let out a cry of, "God, I hate this disease!" It is both an exclamation of deep pain and a prayer to the Almighty. This cry of misery unleashes another rush of emotions and a new deluge of tears. I am crying so hard and so many tears that I use a good half box of Pendragon's tissues. 

He sits mostly silent throughout this near continuous spate of tears. When I cry out about hating the disease, he agrees with me and allows me to continue crying. Later, as the tears continue to come, I blubber through my tears that I really wish Gray were here with  me. He says that he wishes Gray was here too so he could comfort me. This just makes me cry all the more that Pendragon recognizes how much I need my sweet husband in this moment. 

Eventually, the tears subside and I sniffle and blow my nose several times as we continue talking. He mentions that he thinks it might be advantageous for me to go through Green Tree's partial hospitalization program as I had done four years previously. He reasons that I found that program to be very helpful before and thinks it might be good for me to do again. Gray and I have already talked about this possibility at length and are in agreement that it may be exactly what I need and I tell Pendragon this. He scribbles a note and tells me that he will contact Dr. Alt (who will have to refer me to the program in order for insurance to cover it) and get the ball rolling. 

Even though Gray and I have talked about this and even though I think it is probably a good idea, my stomach tenses at the thought of actually going through with it. I exhale sharply and bite my lower lip as I think about it. Pendragon makes another note on my chart and then we set up our next appointment. We both stand up and I sway slightly, a bit weak from lack of food, lack of sleep, and the intense release of all these emotions and tears. I assure Pendragon that I am fine, just a bit tired and weak and frankly, rather spent. He says that he understands, that I had a really intense moment today and opens the door. 

Just as I am about to walk through the door, I feel an intense wave of gratitude for Pendragon and for how wonderfully kind, compassionate, and patient he was with me today and I thank him and ask him if I can give him a hug. He says, "Sure" and I hug him and say "thanks again." He replies, "Of course. You're welcome, " and with a final goodbye and see you next week, I leave to go home.

The dam inside me is broken. I am not happy, but the darkness feels less threatening than before I went inside. The dam inside me is broken and I cried. I cried! I finally cried! Tears that I thought would never come again have been shed and at least one piece of me that has been hurting for so long has been covered over with a balm of peace.