I Can Not Heal You

But You Can be the Little Spoon

They’re here again. I can see it in your gaze. I feel how your mood and the air around you shifts. You know it too, but you are fighting them. But for how long this time? I pray that they never win. I hate them. I hate them so much. And I don’t even really know them. Not on the personal level that you do.

The Monster. Your Our Adversary. The essence that comes into our home and hides behind your fake smile as they beat against the back of your teeth and trickle down your throat to tighten your chest. But I am here to encourage you to open your mouth and let the monster out, though poorly equipped, I am here. I do not have a monster-I can take what your monster dishes out. Can you?

Not always. Sometimes the Adversary burrows into your head, changes your alchemy. Makes you think the world would be better off if you stayed in bed. Or worse. The Monster makes you feel hopeless, and forces you to lie to yourself-about yourself. Tells you you are worthless. Unloved. They lie. They lie like the demon they are.

But again, I cannot fix it, but I can will climb into bed behind you and let you be the little spoon; it doesn’t matter that you are taller, heavier. Right now you are the weakest of us two and I shall use my strength to hold you silently as we hide from the world together. You will be strong again and we’ll fight the world together then.

I do not understand why the demon chose you. Chose to dig into your psyche and make a home there. I do not understand how they drilled into your head, and tried to destroy you from the mindside out. I cannot fathom how they have the power to make someone as wonderful as you, feel the opposite of themselves. How they strip your will to eat, to shower, to answer texts, to do anything but sleep. How they make your patience nonexistent. How it makes such a calm man so irritable. Humans cannot do this. This demon got in your head, and they do it all. I do not understand.

And yet, I don’t need to understand. While I look down into the pit, and you are looking up, I extend my hands. If it is not enough, I will throw down the rope. I have a ladder on standby. I love you, yet I know that I cannot climb up for you. I can only stand by while you pull yourself up. You may fall. I am still here. I am unaware of the time. But I have offered what is practical, and these tools and I will be here when you are ready to use them.

For you always do. Eventually. Your cocktail of potions¹ has helped you to repair the alchemy that the adversary corrupted. It took time to mix the right formula, but when it was found! You found the will to climb. And I am above. With Pompoms. And no judgement that you turned to potions. Never that.

Now your senses are clearer so that smell the scent of the demon before he gets to the front door. We open the door with weapons at the ready. Prayer. Exercise. Being with our chosen family. Cooking and dancing and singing together. Sitting outside and speaking of our blessings. For I feel that you are one of mine. And we have many more weapons to fight this beast. Most times we win. Sometimes we don’t. But even then, the demon² is weaker.

And so, we remain at the ready, knowing we will fight it together. The demon has not scared me off, and you know that it won’t. My own, more visible demon got hands too, but I know you are in my corner when that bell rings. No, we are not healers, but supporters are the next best thing.

So, no- my great love, my muse, my heart- I can not heal you. But when you need it,

You can be the little spoon.

You can also make a one time donation by buying me a coffee :)

1. Medications

2. Demon/Adversary in this essay represents MDD, or Major Depressive Disorder