Saturday, May 24, 2008

she's depressed.

painting: Cisya by Kevin Garner
She's Depressed

By: L

A retrospective of the typical young woman.

She sat on the flattened carpet of her living room staring at the pages of the fashion magazine. Tears skipped down her cheeks as she caught her reflection in the thirty two inch television in front of her. she sobbed as she stuffed another dingdong in her mouth.

This was her life. No willpower, no control, no freedom. She was huge. Larger now than a baby elephant she cried with depression as her body became a prison in her own mind. Nothing could stop the self destruction that engulfed her mind.

When had she gotten to this level? Was it before or after he’d left? Was it always in her genetic makeup? With a mother whose hips could be called voluptuous by the kind and fat by the cruel, and aunts who’s witnessed lifelong battles with bulimia, weight loss, sickness haunted her. She’d grown up in a house with one mother, one person who was rarely home and when she was… there was always sopa cooking. She grew up in a world of rice, tortillas, spaghetti, beef. A house of heaping plates and maybe dessert. What was she taught?

“Mija, you better eat all that food on your plate.”

“God mija I cannot believe you ate all that food. You are getting fat like your mother.”

The depression started early. Her soul buried under pan dulce and empanadas. A culture clash home of Kebob Persian salad and tacos. A world of Koolaid and Lil Debbie cakes. It was harsh and uncontrolled and her own fault.

Where was the discipline? Where was the “Don’t eat that! You’ll ruin your dinner?” When dinner was heaping portions of Hamburger Helper and bread. What has she turned into?

Now, as she reaches her last rope, test results telling her she’s healthy as a horse under all 290 pounds of her. her heart beats, her cholesterol is fine yet her mind… her mind he rotten. What now? She sits… and she cries.

How long will it take for her to become the full coward that embodies her soul and slit those chubby wrists? How long will it take for her to drink herself to death one weekend? To walk into traffic? To wander into the desert and let nature kill her?

How long will it take for her to die as she so desperately wants to?

And where is the help? Where is the loved ones with support? Where is the person who will scream at her until she gets off her ass and goes jogging? Where is the person who will save her? because she sure as hell isn’t going to do it herself.

Will it be you?


Claudia said...

ha, some of that sounds familiar-while the food is different the whole "eat everything on your plate" "you need to lose weight" conflict is so right on!!

Mob said...

Now I'm depressed.

James B. said...

Yo! I forgot how effen well you write! Seriously, I miss these deep essays.

L said...

claudia - lol yeah i think we girls all experience it once in a while.

mob - LOL baby. stop you're cryin and eat you food.

james - hey hon! yeah. its been temultuous.