Once again, we’re back to Mental Illness Awareness Week and Depression Education and Awareness Month.
As I did last year, this month will focus on mental illness.
Remember: You are valuable and deserve to be seen and heard. Regardless of what you tell yourself.
“Here we go. Brand new task. I can do this.”
“I’m sorry, I think I misheard you. Did you just use the words ‘I’ and ‘can’ in the same sentence?”
“Be quiet. No one asked for your opinion.”
“You always need my opinion because you aren’t capable of doing anything on your own. Or did you forget?”
“I can do things—lots of things—on my own. When I don’t listen to you.”
“Name five days you haven’t listened to me. I’ll wait.”
“…”
“That’s what I thought. You’re a hopeless disaster without me. Correction, you’re a hopeless disaster even with me.”
“I have accomplished things, though. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
“Abberations. I have to sleep sometime.”
“Go to sleep now, then. I want to get this done, and I don’t need you making comments in my ear the whole time.”
“I’m not tired.”
“I am.”
“That’s nothing new. All I do is listen to you whine about how tired you are.”
“I’m tired of you.”
“Oh. Well, that’s not exactly groundbreaking news, is it? You say that all the time. It doesn’t make me disappear.”
“Listening to you makes me tired.”
“I could argue you don’t listen to me, particularly as you continue doing things I’ve told you are impossible and beyond your abilities.”
“Maybe ‘listening’ and ‘hearing’ are two different things. I hear everything you say—whether I want to or not—but I sometimes manage not to listen to certain things. That’s when I’m able to keep moving.”
“Did you actually say something intelligent?”
“Like that. I’m going to hear it but choose not to listen to it.”
“Smartass.”
“And that.”
“You’re still retaining it, though. I know you are. The words are getting into that brain of yours.”
“You’re in my brain, you realize that?”
“Do you?”
“…”
“Not as smart as you’d like to believe, are you?”
“Please go away. It’s one task—one small, insignificant task in the grand scheme of my life. All I want to do is be able to congratulate myself on checking off one box today.”
“Not much of a goal.”
“Please. I’m asking you nicely.”
“Because in our entire lifelong history together I’ve ever responded to kindness?”
“You don’t respond to anything!”
“Touche.”
“You’re supposed to be open to reason. That’s why I talk to you. Why I started talking to you in the first place.”
“You talk to me because your therapist made the suggestion. He believes you can reason with me.”
“You exist because of established patterns from my life. Unraveling those patterns is supposed to make you reasonable.”
“He doesn’t know me.”
“I do.”
“You think you know me.”
“You’re me. Therefore, I do know you.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Sweetheart.”
“I know I created you. I built you out of the ridicule and criticisms of the people around me. To continue their ‘work’ when they aren’t around. So I remember the lessons they taught me.”
“So I’m a parabel now?”
“‘Don’t stand out.’ ‘Don’t speak up.’ ‘Be an example.’ ‘Excel.’ ‘Don’t make a mistake.’ You’re the constant reminder of years of teachers.”
“Those teachers were in the wrong—at least, according to your sainted therapist.”
“Now, who’s talking reasonably?”
“Shut up.”
“…Can I offer you a deal?”
“You have nothing I want.”
“I have everything you want: Misery, depressive fugues, failure, surrender.”
“Hmm.”
“At least hear me out.”
“Fine, but I’m probably going to decline.”
“Let me work—in peace. And when I finish, you can ridicule the end product. The work, mind you, not me.”
“I get one jab at you.”
“…One small jab.”
“Oh, all right. Just this once, though! I’m not promising this compromise will extend beyond this task.”
“I know.”
“You realize how big a request you’re asking of me?”
“Silence for an hour? Yeah, I know.”
“I really do hate you.”
“Yup, I know that, too.”
“Just so long as we’re clear.”
“Crystal. Now shut up and let me work.”