I Didn’t Used To Be This Way by Louise Case

Author:Louise Case
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Palmetto
Published: 2021-09-16T00:00:00+00:00

T

hat was the start of my breakdown. I tried to keep going. Left foot, right foot, repeat. It was increasingly hard to stay numb. I couldn’t keep up with everything in my life. I took a twelve-week leave of absence from school to try to get my head straight. I was failing at that point anyway. Nothing made sense when my world was crashing down. I told my mom about the rape, but not Rylee. I felt the need to protect my dead baby from her, and I didn’t tell my dad because he wanted a grandbaby so bad, he wouldn’t have cared how she made it into the world. I’ve told a few people in my life, but not many. Not that I feel like she's a dirty little secret, but I just feel the need to protect her from nosy people and questions. I felt like I’d answered enough at the time.

It took me 20 years and many mental health problems snowballing to get me to see a psychiatrist and get help. It cost me relationships. It helped cost me a marriage. It's something that I work on constantly to keep the relationship that I have stable. My now boyfriend knows, and we work on it. It does get better, but it's always there. I have a hard time on her birthday. I get jealous of pregnant people. (It's a continuous work in progress.) I’m happy for my friends that have babies, but I’ll always feel that I have an unfinished life since I don’t have any children. I’ve had several pregnancies since, but none to term. I keep a fur baby at all times, but that's no substitute for my forever sleeping baby.

I’d basically given up on the idea of being a nurse. I stayed home for a while, but I went back to finish out my lease since it was something that had to be paid for anyway. Besides, it gave me some space away from people. I was a functional zombie. I’d been put on some mental health meds: one that helped me stop waking up, screaming from nightmares, and another that was an antidepressant. I’d sent Ms. D an email telling her that I didn’t think I was going back to school, and that I appreciated everything she had done for me, and that I’d never forget the way she carried herself, and the way she fought for me during the program.

On the last day of my leave from school (I was being dropped the next day), Ms. D showed up at my apartment. Her SUV was still running, and she let herself in as soon as I opened the door. Stepping into my kitchen, she looked me up and down. I hadn’t brushed my hair in days, let alone showered. I must’ve been a hot mess.

“Put your shoes on and brush your teeth; you’re going to class tonight.” She wasn’t messing around and wasn’t taking any excuses. She knew that I had no intention of going back.

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