Bleak

It began as a small dark spot. A small deep inky distorted spot on the left, about a quarter of the way down. An oily spot. A rancid spot. A spot that used to smell like wood stoves, good coffee, old books, sawdust, and rainy days. A spot that, instead, became the origin of decay, rot, chaos, anguish, and a dash of insanity. A spot, that in it’s evolution, made me question the fabric of my being, the full depth of sadness, and the dark bleak void where my heart used to be.

I almost stopped writing there. Really, it’s the most human story there is. Most of us grow up, live our lives thinking we know what it is to be loved, find out we didn’t, go about jaded for a while, and then get lambasted by something bigger and more vivid than anything we ever imagined. There are feelings. All consuming feelings. Feelings that you only thought you had experienced, that you thought you understood. You find yourself returning to a childish level of enthusiasm for everything. Nurturing this passion,…..this consuming co-education of learning each other, caring for each other, filling all those holes left behind by previous tenants who pulled the art off the walls. Never in my life had I felt so….real. Real in my own skin. Real in the eyes of someone else who accepted and encouraged my authentic self. Real accepting them as they were. Real being US. It’s as if my heart grew flowers.

It’s the oldest story. And you likely already know how it ends.

The decay started after several drinks with his friends, when he announced that they didn’t need to know how smart I am. I became an embarrassment to him because of his own embarrassment with me. No harm was meant. I was only answering the question “So what do you do for a living?”. That was all it took though. After such a long time, all it took was some fragile masculinity. He felt I had somehow betrayed him in that small moment. As if he thought I was trying to be more than him. Trust was broken. Words were spoken that cannot be unsaid. The flowers died….and that small dark spot fruited and grew, spreading like a disease.

I’d never known that kind of love before him. We were good together. We laughed about the same ridiculous things. We could talk about anything. We helped each other….but really did we? Was it truly reciprocal or were we both just infatuated with being seen and accepted? Regardless, sadness is a deep velvety pit with really steep walls. The residents are charming and remarkably good at reminding you of how unlovable you are, how broken, how difficult, how selfish you can be. They are good at reinforcing blame. They pour you drinks and keep the lights low so no one can see your tears….but there’s no one there to see them anyway. Those are the darkest times. Food doesn’t have taste. The music is all minor key. The sun is just too damned happy. Often I wasn’t sure if I wanted to return from the melancholy. If you’re lucky a friend will stage an intervention when you’re on the borderline of seeing how far self pity can go. One day a friend will says, “I’m worried about you. I don’t think you’re okay.”

I won’t bore you with the malaise of the next year. I will only say that I tried, failed, tried, failed, and tried again. I cried…..a lot. I put myself out there, if only to prove to my friends that I wasn’t on the verge of self harm….though I probably did frequently drink more than I should have whilst home alone in my feelings. There are still bouts of reminiscing….photo memories that pop up, certain songs, memories of places and things no one but us has ever seen (maybe I will write about those too?)…but most days I’m okay now. I’m still learning how to find my joys in small things again. Time spent alone is no longer for self pity. My mind is quieter and though that dark spot isn’t completely gone, I’ve found that decay grows pretty mushrooms and there are probably flowers in spring. The bleak can’t last forever while the sun is that damned happy.

Though pared down to it’s bones, I’ve never written it before today – spurred by a writing prompt – the word “Bleak”. I have never been in as bleak a state as I was during that time, and I know there are others struggling similarly. I KNOW it is not as simple as this brief passage portrays. The darkness can be overwhelming but you are not alone!

Please, if you’re struggling, ask for help. Accept help. Know that you are NOT hard to love and you bring value to this world by being in it.

Help is available:
USA: Call 988 or visit https://988lifeline.org/