Page 58 of The Golden Boy's Guide to Bipolar
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Abuela scolds, but her eyes aren’t as firm as her voice. “During one of my worst episodes, I blew through every penny I’d saved for your mami’s college tuition. When I finally crashed, I slept fordays.”
I bet that’s why my mom doesn’t trust her. Why would Abuela want me to know this? Doesn’t she want to keep the worst mistakes to herself? “Why are you telling me this?” I finally ask.
“Because I went most of my life thinking I was alone. If I knew what I was going through was a treatable illness, it might have saved myself and the people around me a lot of grief. I’m telling you because I know what this is like. The crash after the high. It’s never fun. But you get used to it eventually.”
“I’m fine.” I know I caused basically all the problems everyonearound me has ever had. That’s the whole reason I want toleave. If I go, I can stop causing problems for everyone.That’show I can save us all the grief.
She nods. “So, do you still stand by what you said last night?”
It takes awhile for my brain fog to clear up enough to realize what she must be talking about. I told her I talked to God last night. That God helped me win Scrabble. And because of what? Because of a sleep-deprived dream I had on the bathroom floor? Yesterday, and so much of the last couple of weeks, feels like one long fever dream where logic had no meaning. Suddenly, logic is back.
A flood of embarrassment rushes through me, and I sink back against the wall.
“Okay, I get it, you win. I’m crazy. Are you happy?” I say dejectedly.
She frowns. “No one here is crazy, okay? Our brains are just wired a little differently.”
I feel my throat tighten. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
She reaches forward and squeezes my knee. “When and if you’re ready to tell people, that’s when they’ll find out. Dr. Lee, your mami, and I are the only ones who know.”
I let out a sigh of relief before a familiar bubble of anger forms. My mom doesn’t trust Abuela atall. Yet this is where she wants me, and she couldn’t even drop me off herself.
“Why’d my mom even send me here if she doesn’t trust you?” I ask.
She pauses for a few seconds. “You won’t hear either me or your mami deny I’ve made more mistakes than I can count...but I think she also knows I can help you. She may not be ready to forgive me herself, but she can still see that I’m different now than I was then. She’s seen me lose everything and piece my life back together from rock bottom. I pushed away everyone I cared about, and I lost most of them. Sometimes there’s no turning back from a soured relationship, but sometimes people will surprise you if you try to make amends.”
I squint at her, not sure I buy it. “You’re telling me you’ve tried to fix every single relationship you messed up?”
“Of course not.” At first she looks confident, but after a moment, her expression drops into something a little sad. “It’s not always so simple....”
“That’s what I thought. Most people are better off without me trying to shove my way back in their lives.”
“I thought the same thing about myself once.” She frowns harder. “But I was wrong. It’s true that not everyone has or will forgive me, but I finally have a good relationship with Paco again, and your mami trusts me at least enough to let me care for you. We still have a long way to go, but admitting where I went wrong and apologizing was the first step.”
“But you just said yourself you haven’t tried to fix things witheveryone. So obviously we both know when a relationship is too far gone, and I’m telling you now that’s where I’m at.”
She nods solemnly. “You know what, maybe I was wrong. You never know until you try, right? I’m going to make some calls tonight. It’s going to be okay, you’ll see.”
Then she claps her hands together and walks out, pulling her phone from her pocket before she even reaches the door.
School on Monday goes by in a blur since I sleep in every class and even in the cafeteria for lunch. With my head down on a table, no one ever bothers me here. No one cares.
Moni’s still not back on Tuesday, which makes me wonder if maybe she and her dad made up, and I’ll be stuck at Abuela’s by myself for the foreseeable future. Having privacy again is kind of nice, but I also forgot how loud The Thoughts are when Moni isn’t talking my ear off in the middle of the night. Now all I can hear is my own brain, so sleeping at night is back off the table.
If only I could catch up on sleep in therapy. But no, Dr. Snitch is expecting answers, as always. She’s not getting shit from me, though. Not today. Probably not ever again. My mom can force me to see her until I shrivel up and die, but she can’t force me to tell her shit. The only reason I probably listened to her before was the medication. But I’m not so easy to mind control anymore.
“I can’t help but notice your energy levels are way down from last week,” Dr. Lee says, and I roll my eyes.
“Maybe I’m just tired of everyone talking shit about me behind my back,” I shoot back.
“You’re a minor, Cesar. Your mother needs to know your diagnosis. We went over this during our first session.”
I don’t believe her for one second. I would have remembered if she’d mentioned that everything I tell her is fair game for my mom’s ears.
She keeps asking me questions, and I keep deflecting them for most of the session.
How are your energy levels? How much sleep have you been getting? How are your eating habits?
