Countdown to Eviction

7 days.

I found myself slipping a little today back into the black hole I entered on October 3, 2010.

Depression is not just a word. It is an unbelievable, torturous, maelovent presence in our minds that destroys our bodies and sometimes our lives. It is an "unseen" - it is not something that shows up on an x-ray, an MRI or in a blood test. But once you are caught in that swirling vortex of depression, the physical ailments that accompany depression will show up. But most people don't understand depression in any form. 

I used to be one of them. I was Miss Independent. I always had a job, I always took care of myself. My health was always very good. And when I had my son, my life changed forever. But I still managed to raise him by myself. But on July 2, 2010, I lost all my coping skills and I started sliding into a really big abyss that swallowed me up when my best friend hauled me off to the hospital three months later on October 3, 2010 because she knew I had hit rock bottom. I was in my closet, crying hysterically and trying to hide in my clothes hanging up.

I lost my coping skills, I lost my identity, I lost myself.

Our bodies are made up of naturally occurring chemicals. And all of mine went completely and utterly haywire on July 2, 2010 thanks to the property management company that oversees the low-income housing complex in which I have resided for seven years that served me with an eviction notice on July 2, 2010.

The chaos continued inside of me as on August 20, 2010, an emergency ultrasound revealed three blot clots in my leg. I did not fit the profile. I did not have surgery. I did not incur trauma to any part of my body. The only trauma I was experiencing was the trauma of the lies that had been told against my son and I, and the management company's refusal to hear my side and allow me to defend myself.

So now my health was in more jeopardy and I kept on sliding toward that big black abyss.

For two weeks after October 3, 2010, I attended a Partial Hospitalization Program. I sat in "groups" during the day and listened to other people. I shared my own situation and found sympathy. I cried rivers of tears.

No one judged me for coming apart. No one looked at me with hatred or disgust.

No one thought I was crazy.

Everyone understood why I was there.

I lost 40 pounds in two months. I stopped sleeping. I sat for long, long period of times at my computer, wishing I could get sucked into it and be spit out someplace where I felt safe. I almost lost my job because I was making so many mistakes because I was terrified my son and I were going to be homeless. I lived (and still do) in fear that the other tenant would hurt my son and I. I lived in fear that management would turn a deaf ear if something truly awful went wrong in my apartment.

I contemplated suicide only because I finally understood why people commit suicide. It is a means to escape the pain that threatens our existence 24/7/365. It can be grief. It can be monstrous financial burdens. It could be a thousand different reasons. For me, I was trying to decide if I wanted to live with the pain anymore: the pain of feeling like a failure as a mother, the pain of being a financial failure because I could not provide for my son, and the failure as a mother to protect my son from someone like the tenant who made all those horrendous allegations against my son and I.

But I could not take myself of this world for one reason and one reason only: my son. I could not leave him no matter how badly I was hurting because I know he would have to live with the unbearable pain of losing me.

I am not back to myself by any means. I still have to endure the trial on November 18, 2010 but I will face my accusers. And I will tell the truth.

I will never be the same again. There is no going back to the "old" me. Until I get out of this place and into a real home for my son and I, out of the "low income housing" stigma that has been attached to me for seven years, I will never completely heal.

I have, however, learned how to compartmentalize every emotion inside of me. I hide each emotion I possess in a different drawer inside my mind. I have lots of space and lots of drawers.

But I still function every day. I get up at the same time every morning. I drink my coffee, pack my son's lunch, get him up and ready for school, make him breakfast and get him on the bus. I go to work. I do my job. I leave, I pick up my son and I come back to this living hell. I help my son with his homework. I make supper. I read to my son or he reads to me. We talk about where the universe begins and ends and how one day he wants to work at NASA. I kiss my son goodnight every night and every night I tell him how much I love him - infinity, he replies. You love me infinity, Mom. And I say yes and kiss him goodnight.

Then it is my turn to sleep. Or what passes for sleep.
I can see the drawers in my mind opening. I can feel all my emotions spilling out onto the floor in my brain. Love, pain, anger, bitterness, sadness, sorrow, failure, the tears of frustration, hopelessness, defenselessness, weakness, and the little strength I have left in me - you name it and it ends up on the floor.

And it is a tiring task trying to put all those emotions back into their respective drawers. I spend a good portion of the night attempting to re-compartmentalize.

And I wake up exhausted every single morning.

But I get up and do it all again.

I would give anything for one night's sleep without worry or fear of losing my apartment even though I hate living here. We have nowhere to go. We have no one to take us in. There are no "white knights" riding up to my door to rescue me and my son. I am not a dreamer. I am a realist.

And the reality is I am poor but highly educated. My brain went haywire but I didn't lose my intelligence - or my sense of humor.

My health is not good but every morning I open my eyes I say thanks that I am still here and didn't die in my sleep - or worse - that my son finds me dead.

I wish for the white knight. I wish for serenity and peace.

I wish that I could provide a better life for my son.

I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now.