Page 83 of Driving Me Mad (Sanity 1)

Trace: Just checking in.

Me: No change.

Trace: Do you want to come over tonight?

Me: I’d be bad company.

Trace: Still company that I’d want to have.

Well, that’s sweet.

Me: Only if you cook.

Who knows when the last time was that either of us had a home-cooked meal. If I have to leave, he should have to do something taxing as well. Plus, he’s a good cook.

Trace: Deal.

She hasn’t smiled since she arrived. I’ve watched her pet Lily, stare blankly at the TV, force herself to eat, and it’s all been done without any emotions. Now, as I watch Brittany work on her homework with a frown on her face, I come to a profound realization.

Existing is an accomplishment.

It may seem like we’re putting forth the minimal effort by doing the basics and going through the motions, but that’s not the case. We’re existing. We’re breathing. We’re eating and staying hydrated. We’re completing daily tasks. We’re existing. Nothing more, nothing less.

The point isn’t that we’re putting forth a minimal effort. It’s that we’re making an effort at all. It would be worse if we weren’t. So even the smallest, simplest, seemingly easier tasks deserve the acknowledgement that we’ve done something today, which is always better than nothing.

Maybe we can’t feel it right now, or maybe we don’t see it, or recognize it, but we’re still fighting. We haven’t given up. Yeah, it sucks that tomorrow may just be a duplicate of today, but we survived today once. We can do it again. The trick is remembering that. Remembering our strength, the good days, our resilience, our positive emotions, and a different, better time. The most difficult part is often escaping the present to have the ability to simply think and remember anything other than the agony of the current moment in time.

We’re fucked up. No way around it. We’re a jumble of constant conflict, never quite knowing what we want or what we’re feeling. But as of right this second, we’re still fighting our battle. As long as we’re fighting, we’re winning, even if not much progress is being made.

In a fit of annoyed anger, Brittany swipes her arm over the table to shove all of her textbooks off and onto the floor. Lily jumps up at the noise and walks around the couch to peer at Brittany in the kitchen. Brittany lets her head fall to table with a thud.

“Come in here,” I call out. “You need a break.”

She doesn’t say a word as she gets up, shuffles her feet, and crawls into the recliner with me. I hold her tight, hoping that helps a little. I wish I could do so much more for her. What I’m able to do isn’t nearly enough and it kills me. It also scares me because I’ve never seen Brittany this bad off before. I can’t help but think about what her parents were concerned about and if I was wrong. What if I am making her worse? Or, what if I’m not making her worse, but I’m not helping either?

“I’m tired, Trace,” she mumbles so quietly, I barely hear her.

I kiss the top of her head. “I know, Britt. Me too. We’ll get through it.”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment. “I’m sorry for being mean yesterday.”

“Already forgotten.” We’d be an even bigger mess if we held grudges for things said during bad times. It wasn’t anything major. Forgiven and forgotten.

“I feel like something devastating is going to happen. Like just a really bad feeling in my gut. How can it get worse than this, though?”

I dismiss her concerns without a second thought. “Let’s take it one day at a time and try not to worry about more than that, okay?”

“Okay.”

“How much homework do you have left?”

“Only one assignment.”

“When is it due?”

“Next week,” she answers.

“Then worry about it another day and be done for tonight.”

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