In my world, the weather is ill

“Rory, what’s the weather like in that head of yours?” 

“In my head?”

“Yes, what’s the weather like?”

“The weather is…ill.”

“And by ill, you mean?”

“I mean…the weather does not bode well for how I’d rather be feeling.”

“So what you’re saying is, you would like to be happy but thoughts prevent you from such happiness?”

“Sure, you sound like you already knew that.”

“To an extent, but I’d like to hear it from you. Tell me all about this ‘weather’.”

“It’s cloudy, like it usually is. I can’t see or feel the sun against my skin. I can’t hear the birds singing. I can’t smell anything but the inevitable rain soon to come. It’s the calm before the storm, but there is never a storm. It’s always the same feeling, anticipation. I’m always expecting something but it never comes. I always expect things to either clear up, or get so bad I can end it. But that never happens. It gets better, then worse, then better again. And the cycle repeats. It tears be limb from limb, tugging me back and forth on a daily basis. I’m good, I’m bad, then I’m good. It’s basically driving me insane.”

“Would you say that you become more and more unsure of whether or not things will ever change?”

“Oh…that’s something I’m certain of, not unsure about. After 17 years of the same shit going on, what would ever make me feel like things will suddenly just go one direction and cease to go back and forth again? When you get used to something, and begin to embrace it, you eventually see it as just a part of your life, your existence. You welcome it, because anything different would feel out of place. Anything other than the typical sinking feeling of depression would make me feel like I’m out of my head. I’d rather it all just go downhill, at least then I would have a reason to end this cycle. I’d be able to justify killing myself, because things wouldn’t get better…and that’s no life for me.”

“But why wouldn’t you want things to get better?”

“Because doc…after so long…all the drugs and all the pain…life has been so distorted for me that I can’t see the good. Even if things were to change, and my life would turn up for once…I wouldn’t be able to feel that. All those good feelings are gone, I could not recognize them even if they were laid in front of my eyes.”

“But that’s no excuse not to try and remember those feelings.”

“Sure it is. Those feelings have been banished from my life for good reasons. Feeling happy made me vulnerable, people would take advantage of me being so nice and positive. They would crowd around me, and use me for my respect. Feeling angry and sad made them all go away. Now…no one is in my life to hurt me. No one talks to me, no one is around me, no one cares. No matter how much I might think about what it would be like to have someone there, I remember what it’s like to be used and to be misled. I remember how much words can hurt, and how many hours I would spend high just to try and forget what happened that day. Trust me when I say this doc, there are good reasons why I hope that things don’t get better for me, and even better reasons why I hope things get worse….”

“Well, I think that you should still remain within the hold time here at the hospital. There is still much that we can work on together.”

“Keep telling yourself that doc….”