Sugar fell from the orange and green sour key that I was eating and onto my neck. It burned and I sat up immediately. While wafting cold air at it using my hands, Shawn looked at me with this panic stricken look. It was as if he were digging real deep in his memory banks trying to figure out how to do the Heimlich maneuver on an adult with boobs a little bit of boobies from his hockey trainer’s course in the fall.
Shawn: Are you dying?
Me: I got sugar on my neck.
Shawn:
Me:
Shawn:
Me: The neck burn scratch itch thing from the new medication. I don’t know what it is. I got sugar on it.
Shawn: You’re nuts.
Me: It burns. It burns.
Shawn: Are you going to stop taking that stuff?
Me: I don’t know. Do you think it is making my moods worse?
Shawn: I don’t know if it’s the medication or if it’s the time of year. You always get um, different this time of year.
Me: What do you mean different? Like crazy?
Shawn:
Me:
Shawn:
Me:
Shawn: If I put your moods on a graph every single year, you are the EXACT same every year. So is it the medication or is it the weather? It’s the weather. I’m convinced. I think we should move somewhere warm all year round. Don’t you think you’d be better if the weather was consistent? Like Hawaii?
Me: Could you imagine? We should do that.
*10 minutes pass and we are into an episode of Fear The Walking Dead*
Shawn: But what if an apocalypse happened. Like if we moved to Hawaii and an apocalypse happened. We would be sitting ducks.
Me: You would have to leave me.
Shawn: I wouldn’t leave you.
Me: I’m crippled and I’m nuts. I would drag you both down. You would need to leave me. I give you permission to.
Shawn: Well I’d have to shoot you or you would turn into a zombie and I don’t want to shoot you.
Me: You don’t have to shoot me. I would be a great zombie. I already look like one most days.
Shawn: I don’t want you looking like a zombie.
Me: It’s settled. You’re leaving me. Just leave me.
Shawn: NO! I’ll pick you up. I’ll carry you.
Me: You’ll have to carry the kid. There’s no other option here.
Chunky awake in his bedroom down the other hall: Oh come on! Just shoot her dad! I don’t want a zombie mom!
Me: What is going on here?
Shawn: What were we actually talking about?
Chunky: Mom’s neck was on fire. Now be super quiet. I’m trying to sleep.
— when talking about your mental illness is the most normal part of your bed time conversation.
May is Mental Health Awareness Month and I was asked to write a piece for Sidereal Catalyst in her series called Depression: Catalyst For Change
Please help us advocate for better understanding of mental illness and those affected. Share the pieces in this series on every platform you have at your disposal. Splash them across the internet. Spread the word. Join your voice with ours as we combat the stigmas surrounding these issues – together, we can make change happen.
Please join me there:
https://siderealcatalyst.com/2016/05/19/theyre-just-medications-kimberly-morand-dcfc/
