When the blackness descends I have to remind myself that I will pull out of this; that this is, in fact, the reason why I wake up each day and swallow a handful of pills. I am feeling way down and dragging through the motions. Feed the cats. Feed the kids. Load the dishwasher. Fold the clothes. Notice that we are low on milk. Walk to the store. I almost got hit by a car on the way. The driver puts his head out the car window and yells, “Nice tits.” I raise my hand to flip him off, but it’s too much effort, so I drop my arm back by my side. This whole right turn on red thing here drives me mad. The cars don’t even stop; they just speed around the turn. I used to think I would surely die in this fashion and I made an effort to make eye contact with every driver who came thisclose to hitting me. I don’t know what good it would do but I had an idea that at least if they looked into my eyes… Maybe I was planning to haunt them.

At times like this Alex asks me what’s wrong; tells me that I am acting weird. I shrug, say nothing. There’s no way to describe it, really, unless someone’s lived it. I once heard it (depression) described as trying to run in jello. My Mom had given me some article she had saved from Reader’s Digest. I couldn’t finish it. I liken it more to sinking in quicksand. I had a phobia of quicksand when I was a little girl. My brother and I saw some movie; I can’t remember the name of it, where someone drowned in quicksand while helpful people on the edge tried to hold out sticks and ropes to pull him out. After I asked my older, all knowing brother if quicksand was real, I asked him where it was. “Oh, it’s everywhere. You just never know when you’re going to fall in.”

“Does it suck you down fast?” I asked trembling. “Very fast”, he said, “once you fall in there’s zero chance you’ll get out.” I think he was right. While other kids were joyfully splashing in puddles I was walking all the way around them, just in case. Because you never know. It’s everywhere.

My Mom and I went out to lunch on Thursday. I really love her for coming to get me out of this house sometimes. We went to a restaurant my brother loves and eats at frequently. Everything on the menu is vegetarian or vegan so he recommended that I go there, certain that I would love it. I didn’t realize that my Mom was going to create a big scene when we walked in the door, announcing that I was Matthew’s sister! The staff told me that I had to sit at the table my brother ate at. They joked that they were considering putting his name on it. It was right in front of the window. I would have chosen the one way in the back, in the corner, but no matter. It was all worth it listening to my Mom try to pronounce hummus, tempeh, tabouli, and tofu. Poor lady, she had no idea what to order. I had to talk her through it. I ended up getting a vegetarian Reuben. It had the most delicious dressing on it that kept running down my hands and tempting me to lick my fingers, but I resisted the urge and used my napkin. My brother was right. The food there is great, affordable, and the portions are huge.

Afterwards my Mom went to some camera shop she had heard printed photos from very old black and white negatives and I sat on a park bench and smoked a cigarette, watching the people walk by. I know very little about North Portland. When I was younger it was a predominantly black neighborhood with a lot of beautiful old houses, most of them very run down. It was considered dangerous for whites to venture that far north. I went over there on the bus with an ex-boyfriend who happened to be sporting blue hair at the time. It was the 80s. A group of guys tried to pick a fight with him as soon as we got off the bus. Realizing it was hopeless to try and talk his way out of the fight he ended up grabbing my hand and we ran. We ran until we came upon another bus and after we jumped up the stairs the driver looked at us and said, “What the hell are you two doing in this neighborhood?” Truthfully, we had been using the bus as a place to make out and we didn’t realize how far into what was then referred to as the ghetto we had gotten until the bus screeched to a halt and it was the end of the line.
My brother bought his house over there before it became trendy. Now I don’t even recognize North Portland.

I wandered into a bookstore. Every so often I’ll say something to Alex like, “I saw the funniest thing today. I wished that I’d had a camera so I could have taken a picture of it.” He will sigh and remind me that I always have a camera on me. It’s called a cell phone. I always forget about its picture taking ability. My Mom joined me in the bookstore, stating that she knew I would end up in there. “Leave Tammy alone somewhere and she’ll always find her way to the nearest bookstore.” I didn’t tell her that the first place I had considered walking into had been the dark looking little dive bar across the street, followed by the coffee shop, before I settled on the bookstore.
As I walked around I saw so many books that I wanted to read. Just about everything was full price and I like to buy my books used or get them from the library, so remembering my cell phone at long last I pulled it out and snapped photos of the titles that interested me so that I could add them to the list of books to read I have at home. I was proud of myself for thinking of it until my Mom started following me around and offering to buy me every book I took a picture of. I realized she was embarrassed by my behavior. I found an Anne Tyler book I haven’t read in the dollar bin and bought that.

My camera is in the shop being fixed so ya’ll are stuck looking at headshots of me taken on the same day. Only the expressions change, but I managed to not smile for any of them. Before I took my camera in I asked Alex what I should say was wrong with it. “You’re paying them to tell you what’s wrong with it.” He replied. So off I went to the shop, set in down on the counter, and told the woman I wanted to have my camera fixed. “What’s wrong with it?” she asked. I knew it! Arghhhh. When I got home I told Alex in that “I told you so” tone of voice and he said didn’t you tell them about the whatchimacallit and the whosit and the whatsit? I didn’t understand a word he was talking about. I just nodded yes. Of course I had told them. I can’t wait until it’s done.

I feel better having typed this out. I feel good enough to curl up on the couch and to take a little nap for maybe an hour or so.