Are you ever just sitting in your usual resting spot at home when sharp pangs suddenly pulse in your chest? Warmth infuses your face and belly as your mind fills with thoughts of everything that could hurt you in that moment. For a while everything seemed fine, and “things were looking up,” but your mind seems against you. Your mind works to convince you everything is not ok. Remember that embarrassing comment you made in an attempt to fit into the conversation? Or that time your boyfriend’s features twisted into a mask of hatred and spite as he flung cruel insults at you? Or even that time your hopes of a family were flushed once you realized you’d lost your second baby. You start to contemplate all the things that could interfere with your plans for a better future. The car is going to break down soon, as it’s overdue for that type of “inconvenience.” A costly repair is going to need to be made to make it through the winter. An important due date is forgotten, leading to failure of a class.
These bleak thoughts swirl until a whirlpool of overwhelming emotions form and drag you into that black pit. That pit is too familiar in its inky blackness that you’ve escaped already so many times in the past. You begin to fill with dread as the warmth drains from your body and you wonder how long this depressive phase will last. A single day? You scoff at yourself. You know better by now. It could range anywhere from days to weeks. In rare cases, it has spanned months. With begrudging acceptance you sink down into your seat and allow the darkness to seep through your mind. Your movements are now a bit slower than usual, and you feel the strain in your muscles as you force a smile for anyone who might see you. The smile feels unnatural on your cheeks and never reaches your eyes. You desperately hope this smile is enough to conceal your inner turmoil, but in the same thought you wish for someone, anyone, to see your struggle and reach for your hand. If only someone would see and be willing to reach down into the pit to lift you from your despair.
Time passes as though you are watching the days pass from the base of your pit. Your shell of a body has done this before. The part of your mind disconnected from your emotions takes over and leads your life for you until you are ready and able to take control again. The day comes when your eyes shift downward and you are able to see the state of your physical form. Disgusted, you begin the treacherous climb to the surface and out of your pathetic little pit. Your shell knows the drill. You will soon be in control again.
Though your motions are mechanical, your hands tremble slightly as you turn the knob for the hot water to the left. This is more habitual than anything. You are fully aware that appearances are everything in this world of plastic and disguise. The task of dragging the brush through tangled curls seems almost insurmountable. With a huff, you yank the bristles through your oily, unruly hair. Tears prick your eyes and threaten to spill over, but you are afraid the ensuing flood would be impossible to stem. Teeth gritted with frustration you rip your brush through the mass with a white knuckled grip. As your underutilized arm muscles begin to quake you slam the brush onto the cluttered counter. Taking a deep, steadying breath you turn for the steaming shower.
The scalding water burns as it sluices down your body, reddening your skin and making you feel something other than icy darkness. You begrudgingly moan as your tensed muscles begin to relax and you sag against the wall. Those tears you held at bay force their way out, salt mingling with the tap water. Broken sobs wrack you as you just barely resist the urge to scream. Robotic movements carry you through the process of cleansing and conditioning your dull, neglected locks. Eyes sliding closed with the pleasure your kneading fingers bring as they rub the suds into your hair and scalp. This familiar routine becomes easier to manage now that you’ve done half the work. Following the initial rinse, you admit to yourself that wash was not enough. Inhaling the coconut scent of your shampoo you lather it into your hair, already feeling much better. The conditioner is a bit more difficult to manage as you struggle to comb it through your hair with clumsy, impatient fingers. The tangles missed by your brush resist the assault, but you are determined to win at least this battle. You rake your fingers through your hair in an effort to defeat that final, stubborn clump. Pain pricks your scalp before you bring your fingers into view to find what seems to be half the hair from your head. Releasing a gust of pent up breath, you reach for the soap to finish the task you’d set out to do.
After patting your skin mostly dry and wrapping your revived hair into a twisted towel, you step from the shower to the rug in front of your bathroom mirror. Taking a breath you use your hand to wipe away the condensation so you can face yourself. Your reflection does nothing to stir emotion within you. You simply take in the darkened areas underneath your eyes and gray tinge to your skin. You try to look within yourself. Physically, you feel better. Surely, you should also be seeing at least a glimmer of daylight when you peer up from the heavy darkness of your pit. Shaking your head, you admit defeat. Sure, you were able to complete the seemingly impossible task of showering in addition to washing your hair. But, in the end, you barely had sufficient energy for that. As you climb into your bed you make a nest in your crumpled sheets and pile of pillows.
With the slightest upturn of the corners of your mouth, you sigh with something that feels almost like contentment. Perhaps the next tasks will be less exhausting. Maybe you will find your way back out of this miserable pit before you’ve been consumed entirely. This tiny spark of hope is enough to feed your will to continue moving forward. For now, you’ve slain the first beast in your quest to escape this current hell.
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