I took a seat on the concrete that was still warm from the 80 degree sun. Champ circled the yard sniffing for traces of that neighborhood cat whore who prowls our yards at night.
Strong winds of an impending storm whipped through the trees. I leaned back into my arms hoping to catch its comforting squeeze against my bare skin.
I giggled to myself thinking of the response that exploded from my mouth when Dr.B had asked me why I felt agitated today.
“I don’t know! The wind is blowing my hair in the wrong fucking direction! I don’t fucking know why.”
And here I was at 1:30 am in my PJ’s willing the wind to dance through my hair.
I looked up towards the sky that had an eery orange glow from the nearby city lights. It was as if Tuesday just didn’t want to let go.
Where I grew up you could walk outside and be enveloped in a black sky littered with stars.
It was a child’s dream.
A plethora of perfect stars to wish upon. I remember crawling out of bed and perching myself up on my white wooden desk, opening the blinds and finding my star. I was convinced that I always picked the same one every night. It was the one that was just off to the right of our maple tree.
As a teenager, my summers meant sitting under these same stars crowding around bonfires, passing beers, the chirps of crickets, flashlights with old corroded batteries found in junk drawers of our parent’s garages, and shitty 90′s music.
I remember this one particular high school party in a backyard. Containers mixed with whatever liquor we could steal from our parents passed freely from one under aged hand to the next.
Then a bag.
“It’s fine Kim,” K said, “You’re only young once.”
It was “just” a mushroom.
It was everything I stood against.
It was everything they stood against.
And that’s when I dug my hand into the bag and pulled out a tiny dehydrated “shroom”.
Fuck them I thought as it passed my lips and I took a spot on the grass.
I tuned out the rowdy crowd and looked up at the sky glittering with stars and feeling so at peace.
Then the tree behind me reached out and tickled me.
It wouldn’t stop.
I laughed so hard that I almost wet my pants.
It was all so messed up and I knew that it was wrong.
I’ve never tried any drug after that.
Many, many years later, right here today under the orange sky light in my PJ’s, I figured that moment was to blame.
I blame a lot of things for my illness.
Unstable childhood home.
Type A perfectionist.
Body image issues.
Back injury/chronic pain
Postpartum depression and postpartum anxiety.
Ugly genetics with a dash of family history of depression and anxiety.
The list can go on.
Can I tell you how depressing it is to focus on all the fuck ups that have happened in my life?
“What is wrong with me Dr.B?” I had asked. “I do everything I’m supposed to do. I take my medications at the same time every single day. I make sure to take care of my needs. I do what makes me happy. I’m surrounded by love. Yet I get up then I get down and then I get up and then I get gallbladder issues and then I get down and then I get fucking strep throat. What do I need to do? What?”
I began to sob sitting on the concrete.
Champ mosied his way next to me and licked the side of my tear soaked cheeks. He let out a huge hmph when he lowered his 8 year old body right up against mine.
“Stop finding a reason Kim,” I whispered to myself, “Start making a reason for it to go away.”
I waited a little while longer for a large gust of wind to blow in my direction.
And when it did I lifted my hands up to sky and I imagined all the blame, every single reason scatter in the air.
Then I searched for that perfect star and made a wish.
Only this one I WILL make come true.