The In-Between
Too Sick to Manage, Too Well for Help
It starts as moments of feeling deep despair. Tears threaten to fall at any moment. I turn off my camera in these days of personal interactions over Zoom, leaving my interlocutor unsure and troubled about my behavior. I lie, say that I need to blow my nose or do something else no one really wants to see me doing. After hanging up, the tears make good on the promise, an assault that lasts for the rest of the day.
I cancel professional appointments because I can’t trust myself to not cry when crying would be unprofessional. I apologize to my husband for the mood swings, especially the crying that leaves him feeling helpless. I hide my face from my children, especially my littlest one, who has an emotional intelligence beyond his nine years, a knack for knowing when I am sad.
I soldier through the best I can. I’ve done this countless times before, projecting an image of confidence and stability, when I feel nothing but insecurity and dizziness. I do my first television interview, makeup perfect, skin radiant, a confident smile on my face and sure of the knowledge in my words. I know I can reschedule the appointments. I know that this depression is not my fault. I smile so as not to alert my children. And when I can’t hold it together, I retreat to my room, lock the door, get into my bed, and let go.
