Hold On...Jump

Dear Kate,

Adah here.

Yes, I know you’re having a bit of an episode. I think it will be a slight one though as far as shaking goes. Don’t reach for the Xanax yet. You have coloring, The Black List, and The Walking Dead tonight.

I know what your thoughts are consumed by.

The House.

There. I said it for you. But, not tonight. You’re not going to write about it tonight or even tomorrow night. Tomorrow night you have OES (Order of the Eastern Star). And, you will enjoy yourself. You can listen to The Catholic Channel and smoke in the car. And remember how you loved Rainbow? Well, you love Star just as much? Star won’t break your heart.

Gaia last night said that she felt from your blogs that you were thinking your depression is more of a chemical thing. But, you didn’t buy that too much.

Here’s the deal. You grew up in an abusive household (NOT YOUR MOM’S FAULT). You made were bullied at a time when bullying was no big deal. You had one abusive boyfriend after another. You married a controlling man who “took care of you” and “bought you things” until he didn’t. You were in jobs you hated, mostly. There were a lot of things that brought you to where you are at now.

YOU walked away. YOU ended it. You could’ve stayed. Remember when you imagined that you’d kill yourself when Asshole died? (When you loved him.) You didn’t kill yourself or even try when he went nuts. You went to your Gram’s funeral, wrote, and delivered the eulogy.

Yes, you almost fell down on the floor if it had not been for you father. But he caught you. Yes, you mourned your Gram and your marriage in your tears, but that is okay. You knew it was over then. You did not fold when Asshole lost touch with reality. You didn’t necessarily stand up to him—but you didn’t just give in either. Remember opening the secret bank account? Remember erasing the Garmin so he wouldn’t know you’d been to a lawyer? Remember not leaving your house. You Scarlet O’Hare-d that Motherfucker. She didn’t let the Yankees run her off Tara and you didn’t let Asshole run you off Home.

Is that your Tara?

As much as you stood against Asshole’s tsunami of psychosis, I think it cost you more than you thought.

You slept with a buck knife by your bed. You lived in locked rooms. You stayed on the pill in case he raped you. You asked the doctor to test you for poison and toxins, because when you were hospitalized with UC, you really believed he could be poisoning you. For over six months you lived in terror.

You worked and you taught and you did what needed to be done. You swallowed all the pain and horror.

That situation changed you. Divorcing—losing your “supposed-to-be-middle-class-dream”—changed you. The shingles virus is in you. No, I am not suggesting you get the shot—but you had Chicken Pox and the remnants of that virus will also be in your body. Chicken Pox v. The Terror of Asshole. (Not to mention your marriage, where you worried you’d get in trouble and you’d rather borrow money from the credit card companies, than your own husband.)

Chicken Pox v. Asshole

I would rather have the Pox.

But, if virus at the age of 10—that right of passage that almost every kid in your generation experienced—changed your body, then what the fuck do you think living in a constant “FIGHT OR FLIGHT” state did to you? You don’t think that changed something in your brain?

You kept up the fight for so long. You had the full-time-plus teaching job, you did the housework, you got your Master’s, you did “all the right things.”

You know things got bad before 2012. Really, you probably shoulda left him in ‘05, when he had his first psychotic break. But, remember 2007? Your stomach issues—your physical suffering with your colon. He literally stepped over you while you were on the floor crying. That was the first physical sign.

Here’s one. By the Grace of God, St, Jude, Mother Mary, and all the Saints your UC went into remission when you stopped teaching. You can eat things that you didn’t and couldn’t eat for over five years. So, just to be clear: quitting teaching = UC remission.

So, a job you dreaded physically changed you.

I don’t know what else you should have done when you went into the nut-house in ‘14. You lived on your own and handled a household for over a year. But you were changed already. You did good all things considered.

THEN. ECT. That definitely changed your brain. That was the whole point. You were not Katherine Therese Kennedy—you were someone I didn’t even recognize. You, who can remember pre-school in detail, lost a year and half-plus of memory.

Chemical, organic, physical changes.

You OD’ed when you realized T. was “crazy.” He was your port in the storm. It’s what you knew—he said all the right things and he did all the right things. And, you needed a reason to live. He gave you a dream to hold onto. He was more abusive than Asshole.

You are not who you once were. You were so happy when you were teaching? Nope.

I think it’s good you aren’t who you once were. There are more changes to come. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually. You were traumatized, terrorized, and threatened for years. Remnants of that virus are still in you.

Maybe you will…just keep on keepin’ on. Hold On. (You remember when that song played? I know you do.)

Daddy is coming. He is going to see you installed as Adah in OES.

Never in your life have you lived more than 100 from your parents—now you live 850 miles away. Hold On.

Grace. Belief. God. Mother Mary.

I know you will discount 95% of what I’ve written to you tonight. But, somewhere inside you know it to be true. You may be at the bottom of the well—but the light…there is light…you can see it…and I promise you it’s there. Hold On.

People, God and Mother Mary have your six.

Now, go smoke a cigarette and start watching another episode of The Black List. Then color.

Ever Faithful,

Adah

“You know what I feel like? I feel all the time like a cat on a hot tin roof.”

“Then jump off the roof, Maggie. Jump off it. Cats jump off roofs and land uninjured. Do it. Jump.”

“Jump where? Into what?” 

…

“What is the victory of a cat on a hot tin roof?”

“Just staying on it I guess, long as I can.” Tennessee Williams.

Smoke ‘em if ya’ got ‘em. God Bless

In the name of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Mother Mary, Saint Brigid; Saint Jude; Saint Therese Lisieux; Saint Peter; Archangel Michael, and my Guardian Angel, Jed.

PS: For God’s Grace—where that pencil poked you in the knee and thumb over 30 years ago—you still bear the mark. What kind of marks do you think Life has left on you?

PPS: Yes, I hear you. Everyone had badness in life. You did let them beat you. You didn't let Life beat you--you fought for as long as you could. Just Hold On a little longer, please.

PPPS: How easy would it have been to put down roots in a nut-house?

"Here I Stay?"