Depression is a not so beautiful beast. From it great works of art , literature, music and momentous change can occur or it can quite simply devour an individual and take others in it’s path as collateral damage. Brooklyn is 80% IN IT right now. Remember that line, in Garden State, when Natalie Portman’s character says to Zach Braff’s character, while sitting by the giant fireplace after he is finished talking about his mother, “You’re in it right now, aren’t you?” Great movie, by the way, but I digress. Brooklyn had spent a week suckling the teat of depression until the breeze changed last night. But let me rewind and start at last Tuesday AFTER my last post.
I hadn’t spoken to Brooklyn since the previous Friday. He had emailed me a very short message on Monday, but I ignored it because it seemed so vague and without meaning. A weak attempt at bridging the distance without addressing anything that hung in our faces. On Wednesday, as I was checking some final email’s, the weather report and cnn.com, I get an IM on google chat from him. He’s drinking the tea I sent. He talks for a couple of minutes and then, as it seems he is going to end the conversation, I jump ahead and tell him I have to go. I have let him lead the way for too long. All his leading did, was get us lost.
I had no plans to talk to him again until he contacted me, playing a silly game of supply/demand, however, I woke up Thursday morning to find that my foster cat had died. She was curled up under the guest bed in the spare room and dead. I have no idea what might have happened. She MIGHT have been sick and no one knew, but she was only 7 and seemed fine days ago. I live in a multi unit condo building built in the early 1900’s. My feeling is that one of the units without pets placed poison down for the mice, one of those mice made it into my condo prior to dying and due to its being poisoned, it was slow enough to be caught and potentially eaten by said foster cat. That is the only idea I can come up with that seems feasible. She hadn’t left my condo in 3 weeks, was eating Wellness cat food, had fresh water, seemed to be using the litter box without issue and, when the dog was sleeping, she would come out to get loves and pets. So, needless to say I was stunned, shocked, upset, sad and confused, which led me to text him that I had woken up to find the cat dead.He responded with shock as well. Feeling a little needy, I texted him later that evening just to tell him that I missed him. He wrote back hours later that things are insane for him at the moment, everything is too much and he just can’t see the world through the immediate chaos. I let him know that I wasn’t telling him I missed him out of need for a guilt laden response, I merely was feeling his absence and wanted to let him know. I know! I KNOW! I totally showed my hand.
We didn’t talk on Friday, but that evening I received an oddly life appropriate tarot reading that led me to email him at 4:30 am. 3 am is normal but 4:30 am isn’t too atypical of me, by the way. The email was light, just a lot of Hey, we haven’t been talking much and so we are out of touch with what the other is doing/working on, so here’s all the stuff going on with me. Hope all is well in your part of the world. I followed that up with an early Saturday afternoon text hoping that he was having fun with the kids and relaxing. Unfortunately, the returned message was grim and sounded like he was one step from jumping in front of a train. I left him a voice mail reiterating that he doesn’t have to go through this alone, that he has FRIENDS to whom he can lean on.
I spent that afternoon with my barista friend as we both had time to kill and needed distraction from our individual romantic dramas. We met at his Starbucks and wandered around for a bit before deciding on eating some Malaysian food. I then grabbed myself a Jin deui from around the corner (sesame ball filled with red bean paste) and we wandered to a local high-end home goods store for shits and giggles. AMAZING SALE on these cool Mio sculptural wall tiles, which means I can now finish THAT corner of my condo AND for only $30 total!!After an hour of sitting on the floor of a local bookstore we decided a cocktail was in order. I watched him drink gin (ugh, yuck, shoot me first) as I drank vanilla brandy and Limoncello. The rum is off my radar for a bit. We finished up, he walked me to my train and we parted ways. Me, home to my pup and the faithful internet. Him,off to booze it up with some friends and some PBR. Umm, eww.
Now, by Sunday night I hadn’t heard from Brooklyn and he had said he would talk to me over the weekend. I decided the funny approach would work. I sent an email with the subject line,”Giant Sinkhole opens up and swallows man. He is never heard from again.” In the body I just place a smiley emoticon. Ten minutes later I receive a reply,”It’s called depression”, I then try to show that I understand and that I relate, that I have been in the pits of depression at points in my life and I understand how tasty the marrow of it can be, how sucking all the sorrow out of that bone can be oh so good, BUT, that he has friends and he can call upon us just to yell and go ARRRRGH and GRRRRRR if he needs to. For him just to see and understand this. He replies shortly after that he does in fact see and understand that, and, even though it may appear as if he is wallowing, it is no where near what he has done in the past, but that he just can’t handle the world at the moment. I end the night by reiterating, if he needs anything, just let me know.
Now, I assume that this is the end of communication for days, if not a week. However, suddenly he appears of Facebook saying hello a couple of hours later. He asks me if I have met Crab Ass Brooklyn and I introduce him to Obnoxiously Heart in the Right Place Friend and then we laugh and proceed to have the most normal chat we have had in weeks. In fact, at the end, I mention a new symphony by Lieberson based upon Neruda Poems, and that I was excited to hear it once they released the recordings because his last works were gorgeous and intense. Brooklyn then says, without missing a beat, “like you”. Come again?! All I said was a simple thank you, but holy there’s the Brooklyn I know, and adore, Batman! We both sign off right after that and I go to bed with a smile.
Funny thing, he gets all chatty Cathy with me twice on Monday, even calling me punky at one point. Hmm, Earth to Brooklyn, are you coming up for air? I am hesitant to get too excited and I am keeping a little more emotional distance this go around. I also have two dates this coming weekend. One is a former “rock star”/dj turned designer and the other is, oh man, he’s been out of the country for a month, I forget what he does. Ha Ha.
So, this is where I stand, Brooklyn’s hot water tank may have gotten fixed and I have two dates in the pipeline. As I sit here eating edamame with Franks Red Hot and snuggling with my pooch, I am a bit more content than I was a week ago today. I miss the cat though. So, perhaps this journey isn’t going to have me making out with Natalie Portman in an airport like Zach Braff, but perhaps it will have a far better outcome than was looking possible only days ago.
To Foster Kitty, 2003-2010
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