The Sophy Chronicles
Sophy's Miracle
She organized her affairs and made sure her cat was provided for ...
I normally do like this time of year. Autumn sounds so much nicer than fall. Watching the leaves turn in my part of the country is the most beautiful gift Mother Nature provides. All the magnificent hues of reds, yellows, and oranges. But the leaves fall off the trees, withering dying, reminding us of our own mortality as we watch children playing in the leaf piles. I watch the squirrels scampering around in a last minute of food collecting before the winter. It makes me smile; their antics are funny. And I must confess, I feel lucky to live in a town that has both black and gray squirrels.
But with the change of scenery brings sadness. This is not a depression; this is a sadness that is overwhelming. It permeates my entire body, though each pore, worming its way into my soul. I take extra care to make sure I am doing well, watching it carefully so it does not transmogrify into something more overwhelming and horrid. It is hard. There are changes at work, and many of us feel our jobs may not be as secure as we think. The economy has been bad since September 11, yet I stay optimistic- I am fortunate enough that I have saved up enough money that I could live for a year frugally and write if I lost my job. Not too many people can have that luxury. Or perhaps it is me; I have once been homeless, so I watch my money carefully with a sense of dread that it can happen again.
Despite the best measures, I found myself slipping toward depression around Thanksgiving. I do not know why, after all, my heart's desire has always been two things, one of them looks like it will happen next year. I have always wanted two things; one is to be a published writer. I have an agent. It may happen. I just need the discipline to make it happen. The other heart's desire will not happen. That is to be a “normal” person, with a family. And real manic depressives should not be with other people, we drive them crazy, our moods washing over us and changing as easily as turning on and off a water faucet, as mutable as the tides.
And perhaps that is where the depression came, from sadness. A writer, like all artists, tends to be a solitary introvert. I find when I write, and I get on a roll, I do not want to be bothered. I take the phone off the hook. I walk around in a T-shirt that covers down to my knees, and just write. As a person with bipolar disorder, I find the best writing I do is as slightly depressed, just somewhat sad, as you would feel after seeing say, “Titanic”. Or slightly manic, just ever so slightly, as a normal person would feel after, say 3 cups of coffee. In these moods I have the discipline to sit and write for hours with a glass of water or a Snapple by my side.
But no, this is down and out depression. I see the warning signs. Two days without showering. Three days without washing my hair. Two days without brushing my teeth. I tend to hypersleep when I am depressed; I am now sleeping 12 hours a day. I cannot concentrate. I cry at the drop of a hat. I take such things as St John’s Wort. That does not work. I call my shrink, he suggests I come in to go back on meds. With trepidation, I do. I don’t like meds, but I have decided, if it's between meds and suicide, I’ll suffer with the meds. Suicide is not an option. I had Lyme disease so my body chemistry does not allow some of the more standard drugs, so he and I discuss what I should do. He gives me a test; no I am not in danger to myself, so we drop hospitalization as an option. So it comes down to lithium or Depakote. There is a very low dose of lithium, why don’t I try that for 2 weeks, and see how I feel? I get the prescription. I start taking it.
My body does not adjust to it well. I go several days unable to sleep, unable to keep food down. I have nightmares. I am fortunate enough to have a good friend on the same coast who is a hypnotist and he helps me though the nightmares. But I find as the lithium enters my bloodstream to normal levels. I get suicidal. Very suicidal. I decide to do the unforgivable, I want to die. And being a Virgo, I have to organize it. I paid off all my bills, checked my 401K and my will, and made sure the cat was taken care of. This makes me feel good, it’s a fail-safe in knowing that I can do this if I should choose to.
Then one night it gets bad. Very bad. I wake up in a cold sweat. I try to get back to bed, and I cannot. I feel alone. I do not mind being alone, but this time I do. Maybe it’s my hormones, I feel lonely. That is overwhelming. The sense of despair which has been my constant companion for the last two or three weeks is sitting besides me, its arms wrapped tightly around me. I cannot breathe. I sense a panic attack coming on. And then it hits. The suicidal feeling washes all over me. I am not thinking clearly. All I know I want to die to end this pain. I feel like its not going to get better. And I want to end it now, fast.
For my own safety, I have no sharp knives in my house, or razors. (I do shave but it’s with a safety razor, not with a blade). I have no toxic things like Drano in the house, for two reasons, my safety and the cat’s. There is no place to hang a noose from. I took care of myself when I find a dwelling place. But then an idea occurs to me. Perhaps it was because I was reminiscing on a quote of Tolstoy's, “Happy Families are all alike”. I live near the train station. Every hour a train goes by from New York to Washington DC. I can throw myself under the train.
I get into my car, and drive to the train station. And I just missed the train, as luck would have it. I sit outside, on the cement ledge looking down on the train tracks, my feet swinging softly over the track, making imaginary circles. I look at the train tracks, and know when I see the train coming, I have to jump down, walk to the third rail and sit down. It should not hurt too bad, whatever pain there is should be fleeting. I feel strangely at peace, happy with the thought that in an hour or so from now I will be somewhere else. Not here. It is an absolutely beautiful night, lots of stars in the sky, and a sliver of moon. The air is clear. I find tears streaming down my cheeks, I do not know why. I do not feel alone anymore; I feel there is some presence near me. I look up. There is indeed a person coming next to me, a police officer. He sits down next to me, his badge and belt buckle shining in the moonlight.
“Are you OK”.
“Yes”.
“What are you doing by yourself at 2 am here? Are you drunk?”
I assure him I am not drunk. He moves my hair off my face, to get a better look at me. I am surprised that such a big man can do this so quickly I don’t feel him do it.
We both look at each other, recognition in our eyes. We know each other from college days. He was a pupil in one of my graduate courses. He makes small talk, and realizes that I am here because I want to jump under the train. And a miracle happens. He does not talk to me anymore, we just sit looking at the moon and the stars, not talking, looking at the third rail. I know if I jump, he’ll go after me, and I do not want to take an innocent soul with me .So I just sit there, swinging my legs and looking at the stars. I feel a sense of peace. What seems to be an eternity later, I hear the train coming. I see the light. I know the police officer's breathing is coming harder, with his adrenaline kicking in. He thinks I am going to jump. I get up; his eyes are on me. And then I offer my hand to him.
“Can you walk me back to my car?” I find myself saying.
The smile he smiles would light up Las Vegas. “Sure”, he says and its over. I am safe, I am alive, and in the end, that is the only thing that matters.
The suicidal feeling still stays with me, it’s still here. It is overwhelming. But I know this time; I won’t act on it. And that strangely enough, gives me comfort.
Published early 2000s, reviewed Feb 14, 2008
The Sophy Chronicles
She organized her affairs and made sure her cat was provided for ...
Life used to be good, but that was before ...
I feel dead, she recalls ...
Death would have no part of her. Now she must make peace with life.
Knowledge is Necessity
Copyright 2009 John McManamy Contact
