The Last Effort

I can’t stay…. I had made up my mind.

For years I had been telling myself that I could stay. That I could some how make this work. But today I found myself staring at my hands, a tiny teardrop of blood had pooled on the paper cut. It stung worst then any other cut I had suffered, and with each little throb, my mind was screaming at me. ‘I have had enough!’

I always thought that my end would come after a horrible down fall. That it would come on the day I couldn’t shuffle the money around enough to pay all my bills on time. Or maybe on the morning were I looked at my useless degree for university as I pulled myself up from bed, for a job that gave me no joy. At least that would have made some sense. At least I could have felt like I had given everything my best shot. And that I would lose the battle of my life in the depths of my deepest darkest episodes.

But here I was. In a mediocre life. Doing worst then some but better than others. And it was a paper cut that was making me spiral out of control. I was pathetic. Fighting tears back, I picked up my purse from the back of my desk. I flicked my sign to unavailable and decide an early lunch was in order. I wasn’t of any use to the office in this state, and my boss would rather me gone then sitting at my desk with tears in my eyes. Crying in the office looked bad for the company, I mean… how are you suppose to care for your clients if you're on the verge of a break down. Everyone wants a happy jolly face, not a honest open crybaby. I slipped my glass over my eyes as I walked past reception. Sara hardly looked up as she mumbled good bye. Would she notice if I was missing?

In the safety of my car. I let a tiny sob escape my chest. I was suppose to be stronger than this. How was everyone else managing it? I was a young twenty something single girl. I has finished with top grades in my field of study only to enter into a blurring world, where it didn’t matter. I hardly made above a living wage and with ever sudden inflation felt like the poverty line was creeping closer to me than I could run away from it. Though I had my own car, it would be seven years before it belonged to me and not the bank, and lord knew when I would manage to own my own home. I would almost certainly need a partner to manage that. Tiny tears slipped down as I started my car and made myself drive away from work.

But I couldn’t stop the thoughts rushing in. This was a pattern after all. I hadn’t manage to attached anyone who wanted to stay around after a few months, let alone years. And I was a pansexual! My dating field was practically wide open. My friends tried to make me feel better with their sympathies, and assurance that as soon as I wasn’t looking, someone special would pop up. But the joke was on them. I wasn’t looking. I hadn’t been for over a year. No one deserved to go out with a struggling middle class women with serve mental health problems that weren’t being addressed. As if my doctor cared! I smirked as I continued to think aloud to myself in the car. If the doctor had anything to say about my body, it was to eat more fruits and veggies and try to stress less. Because a young pretty slightly obese woman had nothing to fret over.

The first time she told me I was obese, stung like hell. I knew I had a little bit of a tummy and bigger breasts… But obese? That seemed a little excusive! And I did eat fruits and veggies every day. I had curbed my childhood sweet tooth and tried my hardest to exercise almost every day. And yet I was still horribly over weight? I cried on the way home from that appointment and vowed to be skinner by the time I saw her again.

So far all that had done to me was re-established binge eating and calorie restriction to the point that I was seeing spots. And if it wasn’t my weight status that toppled my eating habits, it was the bank. It’s hard to buy all the healthy groceries, on trend vitamins and gym memberships when you didn’t have enough in the bank for a morning coffee. Not that I had really saved myself a ton of money by stopping my morning trip to Starbucks, and making my own coffee. It just made me more miserable. And denying my friends hang outs because I didn’t want to spend money on gas or food, broke my heart every time.

I wasn’t living. Maybe I was physically, but this couldn’t be it! I fixed my eyes on the road, wondering if it would really hurt so much if I just drove my car into the bridge barricade. I felt like I was all over the place, and in no place all at the same time. This just couldn’t be it. Hadn’t I followed all the rules? I graduated with honors, I went to a good reputable university, had a part time job to pay for rent and food, well student loans took care of my textbooks and my tuition. I specialized in two fields and graduated with great distinction. I’d even internet at some places before graduating and had tried to see if education would be a good fit for me. But there was not promise of a job when I was done… and the education department told me I would fail if I didn’t buy a car while I was attending school and if I continued to work part time. So I had to drop the program and picked up a secondary bachelor and doubled. I wanted to keep going for my masters, but my parents weren’t able to help me anymore and I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get anymore loans without them as co-signers. So naturally I looked for a job.

I even went to therapy for crying out loud! And felt like a fool for doing so. Each time I went I just couldn’t connect and open up to them. They made me feel small, and like I didn’t have any real problems. That I was just depressed because I was so use to having an easy life. They shrugged off any of my childhood problems, the bullying, the intense need to be perfect and being a caregiver for another person at so young an age. Usually by the fifth session I was scrambling to get out with no desire to go back. I just wasn’t worth the time.

The more my eyes filled with tears I finally caved and pulled over. Heaving in a few big breathes I felt my shoulders shake. “I can’t do this!” I screamed into the stirring wheel. I can’t do this. The voice inside my brain whispered. I took a few deep breathes. But I don’t wanna die….. I just want to not be…..

I wiped my eyes and picked up my phone. The number from my previous search history popped up when unlocked the screen. I sniffed. It couldn’t hurt anyways? Not if I was already at this stage?

I dialed the number and held my breathe……… “ I need help.” My voice was dry.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” the stranger’s voice echoed into my ears. As I broke out into restless sobs.