There’s a phrase, “she’s come unhinged.”
Literally, the supports have worn away. What has held her up, allowed her to function – it’s no longer there.
I envision a door, leaning, busted and sad. The cold breeze creeps in through Winter. Hot, stagnant air flows through in Summer. The wood in the frame rots and decays.
I’ve felt that way. I’ve been the door. Off her hinges.
Here is the thing
to remember:
the moment you notice,
you are back.
— Colleen Wainwright, Unmoored
In high school, I took Prozac for a little while. It made me feel weird. Frenetic. Unnervingly happy.
Happy is not the same as joyful.
If I took it too late in the day, I would wake up in the wee hours of the morning. Sit, straight up – wide awake.
I didn’t like it. It was unnatural.
Maybe it “fixed me” but I still felt broken.
After college, while attempting a more conventional life, I spiraled down into depression again. I knew things weren’t right but I didn’t know how bad it was. I went from a size 10 to a size 0. I slept til 11am. I substituted caffeine for joy.
One day, in the stock room of the bookstore I managed, the words, “I just want to feel like I did on Prozac,” came out of my mouth.
That was it. I knew.
In that moment, I was back.
It took much longer to paint the door and hang it back on it’s hinges. Apply the WD40. Weather proof the cracks.
Anything that has come undone and be redone. Anything that has been unconnected can be reconnected.
Yes, even you.
{ image by Aunt Owwee }
