Five Days Worth

Woke up and something had shifted. 

I was tired, and tired of everything. Despite the half bottle or so of Zzzquil, I slept on and off maybe 4 hours. My head was heavy. My eyes still felt raw and swollen. My back ached. Got out of bed, poured coffee and went back to my bed. Couldn't look at my phone still. It had been half a day since I had.  There was something in there I probably didn't want to see. Or worse, there was nothing. 

But something had shifted. Maybe someone had said the right thing to me at the right moment. Maybe I was drained from the day before. Maybe it just didn't matter anymore. People don't talk about how difficult giving up can be. How impossible it seems sometimes. Maybe in sleep my brain had done the work for me. I hoped, I tried. That's all I can say. Will say.

As the morning went on, I drove for quite a while. Out to Schenectady. Into Albany. Out toward the country. Home again. Trying to reset in the sunlight. Trying to iron out the details. Trying to say "Okay, we lost. It got dark. Now we move forward." I wasn't sure that I could, but I had to try.

So much weight in my chest still. 

Static in my brain.

The day went on.

After everything yesterday, I had talked to Sage openly. She asked again to take me to the hospital. I said no. She asked if I wanted her to just hangout for a bit. I said no. If  I just needed to sit and not even talk. I said no. I did ask her if she would take most of the pills out of my house. She quickly agreed that it was probably a good idea. I gave myself five days of Wellbutrin, and a dozen ibuprofen. The next day, today, she came over while I was home for lunch and I handed her a bottle of everything I had.

"Do you have anything else, besides this?"

"No. I don't have anything."

She just looked at me.

"Do you want to check my medicine cabinet?" I asked.

"Yes."

We went into the bathroom and I began going through everything. I hadn't realized how much I actually had. Half full bottles of a half dozen old prescriptions. Painkillers. She took them all.

"You lied to me," she said.

"I just forgot they were there."

"Right. Should I take your knives?" she barely joked.

"No. I'm not a knife person. It's too dramatic. You have to think about presentation, y'know? Where is the peace in spraying blood? Where is the art? What are you saying with it? You have to think about..." I realized I had begun to ramble. Nerves. Make jokes out of fucking everything. Pretend it isn't real. Like I didn't currently have a very worried and concerned friend in my living room with a bag full of anything I could try to use again.

"Are you sure? I'm serious."

"I'm sure."

She took a moment and said "okay. I'm trusting you."

"I'll be okay."

"So, when you get to the last day of the Wellbutrin, I'll bring five more days worth over. Deal?"

"Yeah. Deal."

"I'm trusting you."

"I know. I'm okay."

"You keep saying that, James. And here I am. With this." She pulled at the bag of medications.

"Thank you, Sage. I know I've been saying it a lot lately, but, just, I appreciate you. Thank you."

"Don't thank me. Just don't... don't. Please."

I couldn't stand hearing that. Over the last couple days, the last couple weeks, people saying it. Well, the people I had been honest with. Broke my heart. The back and forth of never wanting to hurt these people, and knowing that it was the right thing to do. 

Sage left and I sat down to finish my lunch. I had made english muffin pizzas. I hadn't had them in maybe ten years, and I had a deep urge to revisit everything I loved. I sat at my cluttered kitchen table, eating. The crunch. The sauce and cheese. I did love them. Silly little things. 

There are plenty of things and people I love in this world. If you're reading this, you're probably among them. I had been thanking Sage a lot lately for being a real support. And I had been thanking Elle a lot lately for talking me down each time this has happened. For demanding I fight. And, if I knew who you were, I'd probably thank you too. Most of you have been beautiful and good. Most of you have made each day a bit easier. In turn, you each got me this far. So, yes, I'd probably thank you too.

I got rid of the pills. I reached out. I ate the silly little pizzas.