The Quiet Is Coming

“Hello, you’ve reached the South Dakota crisis hotline. I’m here with you.”

“I honestly didn’t think anyone would answer.”

“I’m glad you called. What’s your name?”

“Does it matter?”

“It matters to me.”

“Okay. It’s Mara.”

“Thank you, Mara. What made you call tonight?”

“I’m tired and I don’t want to wake up again. Everything feels like its already ended and I’m just an echo.”

“That sounds heavy. Tell me why you’ve been hurting.”

“My mom died when I was 14. People say that sentence like it’s just a fact, but it keeps happening over and over. Every birthday, every grocery store aisle, every time I see someone laugh like her it happens all over again.”

“I lost my uncle and my grandmother when I was 7. Grief can feel like it rewrites the world.”

“Then my dad started drinking. And after that he started forgetting. That’s when the yelling started. And eventually, he stopped talking at all. I learned how to be quiet so he wouldn’t notice me.”

“You learned how to survive.”

“No. I learned how to disappear. At school I’m the girl everyone’s forgotten about. And at home I’m the girl who eats cereal for dinner and pretends it’s a choice.”

“Being invisible can hurt as much as being yelled at.”

“I tried to be good. I tried to be perfect. I tried to be small. None of it fixed anything.”

“When I was 20, I tried to end my life. I thought I had ruined everything and there was no future left to ruin.”

“What happened?”

“Someone found me and saved me. I was angry and embarrassed. I felt like a failure for surviving.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m 41. I have scars and memories I don’t like, but I also have mornings I didn’t think I’d see. I have kids that love me unconditionally, a husband that loves all of me and a dog that waits by the door. I still have bad days, but the good ones out weigh the bad.”

“That sounds nice for you.”

“I’m not saying it’s easy. I’m saying the feeling that nothing will change is a lie pain tells us.”

“You don’t know my pain.”

“You’re right. I don’t. But I know what it’s like to believe the pain will never end.”

“It won’t. My mom isn’t coming back and my dad isn’t suddenly going to love me. I’ve failed at college and I lost my friends because I’m too much or not enough.”

“Loss can stack up until it feels unbearable.”

“And every time I ask for help, people say the same things. Be patient, be grateful, think positive. I’m done being a lesson for other people.”

“I’m not here to teach you a lesson. I’m here to listen.”

“I don’t want to be listened to anymore. I want the pain to stop.”

“I know you do Mara, let’s slow down and talk a little while longer.”

“I’ve been slowing down my whole life.”

“Mara, are you alone right now?”

“Yes.”

“Is there anyone close by that you trust?”

“No.”

“Can you tell me what’s making tonight different?”

“I found a box of my mom’s things. A scarf that still smells like her. I realized I’m older than she ever got to be. I don’t know how to carry the weight of that.”

“I remember finding a bottle of my grandmother’s perfume when I was in my 20s. I sat on the floor and screamed until I couldn’t anymore. And then… I kept breathing.”

“I don’t want to keep breathing.”

“Can you stay with me for a little while longer?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Once upon a time, neither did I. But then I found a reason to keep going.”

“I’m not you.”

“No. You’re Mara. And you called.”

“I called to say goodbye to someone who wouldn’t tell me to be strong.”

“I won’t tell you to be strong.”

“Then tell me the truth.”

“The truth is I survived, but my life didn’t magically fix itself. It was hard and scary but it also surprised me. It gave me reasons to live that I couldn’t imagine when I was in the dark.”

“I can’t imagine anything anymore.”

“Imagination can come back.”

“Mine won’t.”

“Mara, please.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I already am.”

“Stay with me Mara, please.”

“I can’t.”

“Mara, I’m here.”

“I know.”

“Say something. Please say something.”

“I think the quiet is coming.”

“Mara?”

“Thank you for answering.”

“Mara, stay on the line.”

“Tell your dog I’m glad he waits by the door.”

“Mara?”

“—”

“Hello?”

“—”

“Mara, I’m still here.”

“—”

“Please.”