My Demon mountain maiden

I know I was not meant to hear what was said. It was late. I was supposed to be asleep. My room was positioned right next to my parents and there was no way for me not to hear the conversation taking place, wide awake as I was. I tried to fall back asleep. But it seemed impossible while my father was having one of his rages. This one was also a bit different. It came from a place of vulnerability, probably because he assumed only his wife was listening. He was OK being real with his wife.

The normal rage consisted of ranting and obvious hate dripping from every pore of his flesh. This was one of broken hopelessness. I had been filtering and protecting myself so much in my short little life, I am still confused at how I was taken by surprise. The words he spoke somehow found a way past the locked door I had built between the world and my soul. As I now approach middle age, they still echo in my ears and vibrate my whole frame. They come through loud and uncannily clear: “If I died right now, no one would even care or miss me.”

I’m not going to lie, I just started bawling simply typing those words. I covered my face with my hands and started rocking back and forth, hearing and feeling exactly as I did that night 21 years ago. That is the power of those words that will never, ever be unsaid.

As unpredictable and uninviting as my father could be, I still loved him more than anyone in the world. If I were not watching him from afar, I was following him around. I wanted to please him and I am certain that a degree of his unhappiness I blamed on myself. I was not sure why or how, but it had to be my fault. He had five daughters, a very smart and beautiful wife, and more knowledge and talent than should ever be given one person. He could take nothing and turn it into something, like magic, and when he was happy, there was no need to walk when he was obviously capable of flying. Yet, even the strongest of birds will exhaust if flying too long. And such was the rhythm of my existence. Late winter I would find him sitting on a chair in front of the fire, curled in a ball holding his head between his forearms and cradling the back of his head with his hands, rocking back and forth. Hours and hours, days upon days, this was his position. I am sure he took breaks while I was away at school and what not, but I saw and became very acquainted with the demons holding him.

Depression can carry itself discreetly. I have seen a multitude of expressions produced by his cunning ways. But they are all designed to accomplish the same task. Never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever let “them” know what is really happening inside. Unless you can look around yourself and see the one-in-four people who are suffering from depression, he is doing his job well. I was in my early 20s when I finally recognized one of those many faces staring at me from the mirror. I had worn the expression many times and never saw it for what it was. Years later I can still look back and relive countless nights curled up in a ball on my bathroom floor, crying for what seemed to be an unrelenting pain trapped inside me. Even before that, I can now see the many times as a young adolescent I would wander through the woods pleading with some unknown force for answers. Why did they not love me? Why was life such a punishment for me? What had I done? What is the point? Somehow it all had to be my fault. Still, I was able to write off or justify those situations until my early 30s.

My Demon mountain maiden

I had been working the night shift in a hospital for some time. I was getting little sleep, not eating so healthy, and playing wife and mother of four during the daylight hours. If I ever flew to exhaustion in my life, it was at that time. And it was not a gentle glide. It was a mental breakdown that came close to ending not only my marriage and family, but also my life. I can remember the moment I, for sure and without a shadow of doubt in my mind, stared my demon in the eye and saw him for who he was. It was late winter, and  I was sitting in a chair bent over cradling my head in my hands in front of the fire. I was rocking my body back and forth trying to achieve any level of comfort that could be had. My mind kept repeating “If I died right now, no one would even care or miss me. If I died right now, no one would even care or miss me. If I died right now, no one would even care or miss me … or even remember.” And then I saw him. He had the face of my father, and my own thoughts rang out with the sound of his voice. I had become my father’s every weakness. He had sat down beside me and I was broken.

I never hated or resented my father for his weaknesses. They made him human and real to me. His talent and admirable qualities seemed to be unattainable. I could never come close to being his equal. But his weaknesses made him real. When I had heard those words come out of my father’s mouth, they did not hurt me because he felt that way. I knew he was wrong. He meant the world to me. I never could or would forget. I loved him. But those words…? Those words that shake my frame to this day. They were my heart’s song. It was my reality. It was what I felt and believed to be true every day of my life. The only thing that could or would ever convince me otherwise was me … being that little girl and hearing those words come out of my father’s mouth.

My Demon mountain maiden

I look around at my children, my husband, my family and friends, and I know the truth even if I cannot feel it. I will choose to believe it. I know they love me. Unfortunately, that does not offer me the happiest of endings. I am still me, and come late winter, it is still hard to move. It is hard to think. It is hard to forget. It is just hard. Way too many times my mind and my body seem to not only conspire, but to put on an all-out revolt against me. I do not feel anyone or anything of value. I cannot bring myself to need or want. I am held in one place, prisoner to the weight sitting in my chest. Simply at the mercy of a tormented mind, but I hold on because I know the truth. This too shall pass.

My Demon mountain maiden

I have taken anti-depressants in the past. Sometimes you simply cannot do it on your own. What I can do, however, is treat my body the way it needs to be treated. They say you have to love yourself before you can love anyone else. I find that to be true to the last letter. I am physically incapable of processing accurate emotions unless I take very good care of myself. I exercise as much as my body requires. By that I mean to exhaustion, and then some. I manage my vitamin levels with supplements after having my levels tested to make sure I am where I need to be, and, most importantly I eat as healthy and simply as possible. I recognize that the world I live in is not the world my body was designed to thrive in. It is my job to make this world what my body needs. As a reward for my efforts I can honestly say I am

My Demon mountain maiden

a happy person most of the time, seldom needing more than a short respite closer to the equator during the long dark months of winter.

I am grateful for my father’s struggles and example throughout my life. His condition was eventually diagnosed and medicated. Later, after many life changes, he was able to manage without medication. He now possesses the sweetest demeanor a daughter could ever aspire to, removing all hope that I could ever be as good as him. In parting, I just want to say, life is a worthwhile struggle, my friends. Look each other in the eyes and choose to love even when you cannot feel it. Actions are more powerful than a fleeting internal emotion. More than likely, the person you see will be struggling as well. Struggle on.

Feel free to explore my website at MountainMaiden.org First published by Samantha YeVohn Brown Feb.2020

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