This morning, I had the most awkward conversation with my sister in the shower at the gym. She and I had taken showers at opposite sides of the aisle and, for whatever reason, began a conversation.
“So, did you work out your shoulder today?” she asked me, over the din of the water.
“Some, but I think I need to move the weights up five extra pounds, I just can’t figure out how to turn that knob thingy,” I responded, explaining how I could only adjust the weights by ten pounds.
“Just ask one of the trainers,” she suggested, “That’s what they’re there for, dork.”
“Well, I probably won’t be here much longer, anyway,” I stated.
“Yeah, what is going on with you, anyway?”
“Well, I have been trying to reach Uncle B to ask if I can come there for the holidays,” I spoke loudly, as I could hear more showers come on.
“You don’t have to do that,” her voice started to crack; “You can stay here with us.”
“No I can’t,” I answered, “Things are starting to get weird here. You guys need your time alone; and, besides, R’s boys will be here soon and there really isn’t enough room.”
“R just needs to chill,” she said, “He stresses too much. If we need to be alone, we can always leave. Just stay, don’t go. What are you going to do at Uncle B’s house? There is nothing there for you.”
“It’s fine,” I shampooed my hair as I spoke, “And, you shouldn’t have to leave your house if you want to be alone, it’s your house.”
“I don’t want you to be alone for Christmas,” she was fully starting to cry now, “You’re my sister and I love you. Don’t go. I want you to stay, it’s fine.”
“I really don’t think I should,” more showers coming on, a few turning off, people coming and going as we talked, “You guys seem really stressed. I’m clearly in the way, it is so awkward. Besides, last year I stayed alone in a hotel for Christmas, so this really is no big deal.”
“It is a big deal,” she was sobbing, “I don’t want you to be alone. And, after the holidays, what are you going to do then?”
“I really don’t know,” I was being completely honest with her, “I guess maybe kill myself.”
“Please, don’t say that,” still crying.
“I’m finished showering,” I stated flatly, “I’m going to go get dressed.”
The Flat Girl 
Thank you for your honesty. If you decide to go, which I understand, I will miss you.
Thank you, night owl.
I have my ups and downs… days of suicidal funks, and days of highs where I think I am the greatest thing since sliced bread of the Twinkie, so are the pitfalls of being bipolar-manic depressive. I feel terrible for laying it at my sister’s doorstep; however, I also have no filter on my mouth, a symptom of being BPD… or, maybe it is just my personality.
Either way, I do not think I can change who I am at this stage of the game, I can only try to grow and learn each day… and, it’s what I do.
Thank you for reading.
Always, Me
Once again, the Like button can’t be used. I hope you can find some solace in your life, you haven’t mentioned your other human contact, from your other site. I hope that is still an option for you if you are still engaged in that relationship, You need friends this time of the year. My thoughts are with you in your need……
Thank you, Sir. I truly appreciate the sentiment.
Always, Me
I’ve talked to a couple girls (adults) who told me about the dark place where suicide dwells. And I’ve had a glimpse only one time for about a full minute where I realized, ‘I don’t want to live.’ It was not a place of deep emotion, it was not a place from where one cries for help or thinks to leave a note — those are other places with needs to reach out to the living. That dark place is a place of certainty and cold decision. It is only scary if you have the opportunity to look back afterward and realize that place is there. The girls were best friends and one of them had terminal cancer. For me it was from a situation where I was getting a lot of dopamine that was suddenly cut off and I was adrift temporarily in a place of no affect, and somehow with the certain knowledge that I did not want to live. I did not act and it passed never to return.
Your mileage may vary.
I get that there is no magic pill, no magic words, no guaranteed ticket away from that place. You land there or you don’t. I can only stress that I will be here every day at random times, that I do care, and that I would be saddened if you vanished into the ether without a word. If that knowledge can persist into that dark place then I have done something rather remarkable.
Jim,
I think you have written something rather remarkable.
I have been in that flat place, too, and you are right. It is not gut-wrenching sadness. It is the place of nothingness, no hope, no future. I lived there for a while and came back because of something stronger than myself that i don’t quite understand.
One of my spiritual teachers believes that when we choose to take our own lives and end our time here, once we are on the other side, our soul chooses to try it all over again, to relive this life and work through the hard places. Ugh. Just that thought alone would be enough to keep me here. Groundhog Day- the dark side.
🙂
Sir,
I appreciate that you are here… As always.
Me, the flat girl
Like JM I find it hard to use the “Like” button myself.
I feel as if I should say something profound but the words will not come.
Many many years ago I walked a dark path myselfI found a light that helped me from that dark time. I am still here writing my own blog and exploring life. I hope that I am here reading yours for a long time to come.
My thoughts are with you.
Thank you, Sir.
Always,
Me
I watched “The Apartment” and finished moments ago. I enjoyed it very much. It was all as you said. One thing I noticed and did not understand: twice someone said the word “three” and held up four fingers. I found it impossible to ignore and just as impossible to understand. The first time Jack Lemon was saying how many drinks he had, and the second was Shirley McLain reporting on something, I forget what. I wonder if a good review of the movie would mention this. Regardless I enjoyed it very much.
Sir,
I am so happy you watched it; as it is one of my favorites… I have not seen it for a year, as my belongings have been in storage. I do not recall the scenes to which you refer. However, now, when I watch it again, I will not be able to ignore them…
I cannot wait to watch them again.
It was beautiful, melancholy, poignant, wasn’t it? Did your wife watch with you? Just curious…
Always, Me
Your words hit my eyes like a punch from a closed fist. This is not an insult, its more of an understanding on how your words affect me … and while I can creep along and silently read your words and not comment, I am compelled otherwise. I am not sure what words I could possibly share, if any at all, that would make a difference. I want to comfort you … or maybe by comforting you, I will comfort myself.
Thank you…
I will be back tomorrow; and, hopefully, after that. My tendencies wax and wane. It is a curse.
I am so happy you are here.
Always, Me
There is no reply a level deeper so I have to start a new thread. Yes, my wife watched with me and we talked about men of that era and the predicament of women. Normally we watch something and only pay half attention while we play with our iPads. We both watched all of the movie as it completely held our attention. Dialog surrounding the word three and the four fingers held up during the card game:
Bud: Gin. (He spreads out his winning hand and then adds up the points) Thirty-six and twenty-five. That’s sixty-one and two boxes. (He writes the score on a pad)
Fran: I just have this talent for falling in love with the wrong guy in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Bud: (shuffling the deck) How many guys were there?
Fran: (holding up four fingers, a gesture he made earlier) Three. The last one was the manager of a finance company, back home in Pittsburgh. They found a little shortage in his accounts, but he asked me to wait for him. He’ll be out in 1965.
Bud: (placing the deck in front of her) Cut. (He begins dealing another hand)
If you like you can read through some of the dialog and search out the numbers three and four here:
http://www.filmsite.org/apar3.html
Oh… I think I recall now. Isn’t she simply being cheeky, Sir? As in… perhaps there were really four, but she holds her finger up for three, as in not really wanting to acknowledge the true number?
Also, when he is recollecting the number of drinks he has had?
Just a thought…
I suspect you are correct but it has my mind spinning with the four managers borrowing the apartment, the three windows in his new office toward the end. Every mention of a number could become a subject of ridiculous scrutiny. But twice a person says “three” and holds up four fingers for the camera. Maybe she was there when he did it at the party at work and she playfully imitated it later. Sharp girl. Reminds me of someone’s blog I follow.
Hmmm… Which blog is that? Maybe I would like to follow it as well?
I am always up for a bit of wit 😉
Always, Me
My BPD had me at that very precipice in July. A week in the Psych ward for my own protection and the passage of time pulled me back. I’m not going to give you reasons not to, nor try to have you look at the bright side. I seriously know better. Just wanted to say, for whatever it’s worth, I get it.
Thank you. I sincerely appreciate your thoughts.
Always,
Me
I used the LIKE button anyway. Can’t shake the feeling that your writing needs to be on more than a blog! Books are flat… you might like to write one? ;D
Seriously though, glad I found this after you ended up having a good visit with your family. So glad you decided to go… even though your sister clearly loves you in her own way.
Thank you…
I know it is because my sister has her own issues, too. All of the kids from my family do; I discovered that after my visit with my aunt and cousin. I guess when you grow up “like that”, it becomes your norm and you just don’t know any better.
My sister has been sad since I have left; she looks for me every day at the gym… it is sad, we never really knew each other until recently; still don’t really.
Que sera, sera… I suppose.
That book is out there somewhere maybe…
Always, Me
I agree. Would love to read your story.
night owl
Thank you…