I am supposed to be stronger than this.
If my father saw me now he would once again have to suppress thoughts that his son was not acting like a man. ‘Having girlie problems.’ ‘Men don’t cry,’ he said. ‘Men deal with their problems and find a way.’ I’d listen to him talk about people as we watched the news or discussed things happening to friends and neighbors. He liked to talk at the dinner table. Never had a lot to say otherwise, but he had lots of opinions at dinner.
My father loved me. He loves me still. He cared deeply for his family and his children. He was always there, and he set a fine example. My father was a man's man and he wanted me to be just like him. (I thought you could hit better than that’ he said.)He was an only child and his father died when he was very young. He had to be the man of the house for my grandmother and my great grandmother for a long time. He knew better than to talk about things like feelings and sadness. That was weakness. Men didn’t share things like that. Men deal with their problems and find a way.
My friend suggests that I may be suffering from depression. This is not the first time that she has said this. I think depression is her ‘go to’ diagnosis for her friends with problems. Depression is her hammer and she knows just enough about depression in men to make every fucking thing look like a nail. (What does she know anyway?) I think she is still suffering from her own broken marriage, which is so sad because I care about her a great deal. But she was damaged… and I think she sees me as damaged. There’s a sick kind of logic that suggests that we should be able to get together and lick each other’s wounds, but I would not want to live like that. I just want to stop hurting. (I expect you to be a man…’) I want to figure out what my problems really are, deal with them, and find a way.
I have a few more things to add to my list. My list allows me to be very efficient, so that when I go out… it’s simply a matter of running all of my errands while I am out. I will admit, however, that I don’t go out very much anymore. I am so sick and tired of my neighbors always saying, “We don’t see you anymore. Have you been traveling a lot lately?” No, God-damn it! I’ve been right here. I just haven’t had any place to go. I just don’t feel like it.
But I am dealing with things. I see people. I had an old girl-friend come here to visit with me just the other day. It was a great excuse to clean up my place. The real surprise was that she just didn’t have the same sexual appeal that she has always had. Maybe she’s gained a little weight or something, but I just wasn’t into her this trip. She was a real sweetheart though and she seemed very concerned about me, but here we freakin’ go again. (‘What are you crying about?’) Why is everybody so damn worried about me? I’m just feeling a little sluggish lately. I’m probably not eating like I should… but that isn’t major. I understand me better than anybody and I will find a way.
It’s just so damned hard. There are times when I really don’t like the choices I’ve made or where I am right now. I was supposed to have my project at work completed by this point. I was supposed to be riding high and contemplating a whole new world. That didn’t happen. (‘Get over it.’) That’s probably my problem. I’m just disappointed that it didn’t happen according to plan. I can deal with that.
There’s gotta be a way.
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Emily Holleman
Jowita Bydlowska
Lia-Anne 
Debra Varva
white and black
Helvetica Stone
Salon.com
Comments
Hugs, :)
"He was an only child and his father died when he was very young. He had to be the man of the house for my grandmother and my great grandmother for a long time."
This was my dad from age 12 on... The problem was, or so I believed,
I was born a girl. He had no one to encourage to "pick it up and run."
S
cy
I especially liked the interactions because for me that was the key, particularly how with women your character could be angry or sad or disinterested and apathetic, which is the hub of depression, that deep void or reaction that is beside the point, rather than the deeper emotion...responses that blanket the deeper profound sadness.
I liked this very much. I almost feel that here on OS, it's like a class where we support and we crit too. So I hope this comment didn't say too much or say the wrong thing because if there's one thing I'd want you to know it's that I believe you have "the gift" and that you're a dazzling writer.
This is a texturally intricate and emotionally spot-on fictionalization of depression denied.
American males are socialized to deny the very biological processes intended for emotional purging and healing. Tears contain a chemical, that when released, decreases grief and sadness. American males are shamed into suppressing their own healing tears for fear of appearing weak. They are however, encouraged to rage and threaten and beat the living s--t out of each other. Crazy society? You betcha!
I always attempted to encourage my emotionally repressed male clients by pointing out that it takes remarkable STRENGTH to allow one's self to appear WEAK.
Look how your powerful fiction tapped into MY emotions, Well done, Harp!
--rated--