Breaking
The sound of laughter drifted up from the street below, making Liddle feel very alone in this new town. This was supposed to be his grand adventure, his escape from the mundane existence that had choked the life out of him for so long. What had happened?
Liddle had been certain Clary had been the problem. Being tied to her had meant being stuck in their hometown. He’d walked out on her, swearing he’d never go back. He pulled himself out of the bed he’d barely left for the last week. Pulling back the curtain, he peered out the grimy window of his bed-sit at the happy, bustling crowd rushing about their business. He felt no desire to join them.
He’d been in New York for three weeks now. Despite his big plans, he hadn’t applied for a single job. He turned his gaze back to his squalid room, really seeing for the first time the piled-up empty takeout containers and dirty clothing strewn across the floor. When had he started to live like this?
With no one to blame and no voice other than the one in his own head, Liddle finally broke, dissolving into tears. Clary was right. He was depressed. Though he still couldn’t accept her insistence that it wasn’t a failure on his part, he realized he needed help. The number for the clinic she had given him was still in the pocket of the jeans he had worn when he had, on impulse, fled to New York. On his knees, sobbing, he searched through the pockets of his dirty clothes until he found it.
Hands shaking, Liddle pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number, knowing his next call would be to Clary. He prayed she would take him back.
The call connected. A woman’s voice said, “Mood Disorders Association.”
Liddle paused. Could he do this? He drew a shuddering breath. “I think I need help.”
This story came from a prompt from Prompts 2 Go to write a story somehow related to breaking. I added a random first line (substituting the name Liddle for he).
Depression is a huge issue, especially now. The stigma that still is attached to the illness prevents too many people from acknowledging their depression and even more from seeking treatment. If this story encourages even one person to do so, it will have served its purpose. Trust me, you can do this. I did, and I have never regretted it.
Please share this story. I hope it reaches someone who needs to hear its message.
What an important story. Thanks for sharing, Dascha.
Well said. We are all or have been on our knees at some time. I'm so glad there was someone there for me, someone who listened and led. Therapy was one of the best steps I ever took.