Shadowed Soul (23 page)

I sat in silence for quite some time as I tried to formulate a response, and as I thought, I began to gain more insight into the effect this situation had on me.

“Yeah, I suppose I do feel sort of guilt,” I admitted. “The thing is, Sophie, I just want a normal life, if that makes any sense?  I want to have the kind of life that I know other people have and that includes loving my mom and being upset that she is very ill.  So, being so unaffected by this thing has left me feeling a bit lost and angry.”

“Angry at your mom, or angry at the stroke?”

“Angry at the Shadowed Soul, at the illness, or however you want to put it, I mean, it's the thing that’s robbed me of a normal life. So, it makes sense to be angry at that more than anything else. Doesn't it?”

“These are your emotions, Thomas,” said Sophie.  “I'm not going to tell you how to feel but I want you to try and explore and understand where these feelings come from.  I mean your mother is in hospital and from what you've said it's perhaps looking unlikely that she will get much better. Now, what do you perceive as being the socially normal way of dealing with something like that?”

“I should be visiting every day, I should be consumed with worry and I should be crying and sad.  All the things you see on television, all the things that you know that normal people go through.  But I feel nothing.  Perhaps relief that she got what was coming to her.”

“Right, do you mind if I tell you little story?” asked Sophie.  She waited for my response.  I nodded and shrugged. “I'll take that as a yes, shall I?  Okay when I was 15-years-old my older brother was killed in a car accident on his way home to Oxford from London. It was a senseless thing and it didn't really seem to be anybody's fault, just a series of events that ended up with three people being killed and five people badly injured. Mark was the best older brother anyone could ever ask for, though of course I'm only saying that because he was my big brother but for me it was a universal truth.  I loved him and he loved me.  And then one day he was killed.  Straight away he was taken to hospital and put on a life-support and doctors and nurses kept Mark alive for seven hours and ultimately they asked us if we wanted to switch off the machine that was keeping him technically alive. My mum and dad talked for an hour or so and ultimately they decided that the best thing to do was to just let him go, they didn't particularly involve me in the decision because I was 15, and I would not have said yes. So Mark died and 10 days later he was buried and then life went on.”

She paused and I saw that her face reflect long-held grief and I began to feel slightly uncomfortable; surely it should be me telling the stories, not her.

“Now the socially normal thing to do at the time would have been for me to cry and cry, but I didn't,” said Sophie.  “I did spend some time hating my parents and accusing them of murdering my brother but I didn't cry and I felt so guilty about that because I knew that if I had been killed and he had been left alive then he would have cried his eyes out.  It would have broken his heart that I went to the funeral and I pretended as much as I could to be upset but I felt nothing.”  She smiled sadly and looked at the pen on her desk and I willed her to pick it up and start playing with it again if it gave her any relief.  “Six years later I was turning 21.  I woke up on the morning of my birthday and it was that moment that my grief decided to manifest itself and I honestly could not stop weeping.  I have no idea why it took six years before I could experience what would be classed as normal grief but I do know that's how long it took me. Do I feel guilty about that now? No, I honestly don't because the one thing I've learned through speaking to hundreds if not thousands of different people throughout my life is that fundamentally there is no such thing as normal.  Normal is a lie.  Normality is a big, fat, crippling lie.  We’re all individuals, we've all got different upbringings and genetic codes and we all have our own issues.  Society thrives on the idea of being normal, of fitting in with the crowd.  Whether that's in our society where advertising continuously punches you around about the head with this never-ending need to be part of the in-crowd, or if it's in a society that depends on cohesive units for survival, either way someone keeps suggesting that we are supposed to be normal.  However, you can fit in with society and still be a complete individual.  We are a tribal breed, we want to belong and do whatever we can to be part of something bigger.  And sometimes if, no matter how hard you try, you struggle to find a place, then that can be something that affects you badly on a number of levels.”

“So, you're saying that it's normal for me not to feel anything for my mother at this time?” I asked.

“No, I'm saying you feel what you feel and you cannot help that, Thomas,” assured Sophie.  “The human mind very seldom behaves, especially when it's in some kind of stressful situation. You can only feel what you feel and if some people judge you as not feeling the right thing then clearly they don't know you.”

Sophie had made a huge statement; I needed to hear that from someone I had grown to respect as both honest and impartial. She reflected my own thoughts on the idea of being normal.  I glanced at the time; minutes remained.

“To answer your questions, Sophie, I don't feel guilty but I feel guilty that I do not feel guilt.”

“Well, I suppose we can discuss that next week if you want to.”  Sophie smiled as I stood up.  “Thomas, do you mind if I say hello properly to Bailey?”

Bailey had been lying quietly at my feet for the full hour and while Sophie had greeted him with a quick pet and scratch behind the ears when we had arrived she had gotten down to business very quickly. I had assumed that perhaps she was not that interested in dogs and had allowed me to bring him for no other reason than I had requested it. But after I told her it would be fine to approach Bailey, I saw that she was very comfortable around dogs and as she knelt in front of Bailey patting his flanks and ruffling his ears I could see that he was very comfortable around her.

“He's a fine dog, Thomas, you're really lucky to have a friend like Bailey.” She smiled and looked at me from her kneeling position. “I, well I brought him a treat, if it's okay with you?  I don't want to overstretch your or his boundaries.”

“I’m sure Bailey would be more than happy to accept a treat,” I replied.  “What do you say buddy?  Treat?”

Bailey barked once and Sophie's face lit up with an eager, childlike smile.  She went to her desk and brought out a packet of bone shaped dog biscuits from the drawer.  As she approached Bailey, he sensed food and sat to raise a paw as if to shake hands.  Sophie giggled as she gave him a biscuit. Bailey devoured the biscuit and then instantly started looking for another one. Sophie glanced at me for permission and I shrugged and nodded a little.

“I don't suppose one more could hurt,” I said.

She nodded and gave him a second biscuit which he devoured.

“Do you want to take these with you?” asked Sophie, as she sealed the packet of biscuits.

“Maybe you should keep them here.  It’ll give Bailey something to look forward to.”

She nodded at the suggestion that Bailey may come back.

“Thomas, before you go I have something I want to suggest.  Just in case you want to mull it over.  You know that Beth would also be welcome at any time if you felt ready or that it was appropriate,” said Sophie.

“I don't know if we could afford it, to be honest, Sophie,” I said.

“No, I'm talking about you both together,” she clarified.  “An hour of my time is an hour of my time, same fee.  Up to you, though I think it would be helpful.”

As Bailey and I walked back to our apartment the idea of having Beth attend one of these sessions simmered.  

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The hospital was not where I should go.  Being in that place was not good for me, sitting next to the ruined shell of a woman who hated me.  I had gone a few times and my mother had very obviously not wanted me there.  Uncomfortable for both of us, avoidance seemed the best remedy.  I did not feel guilty as such, my sessions with Sophie had slowly begun to erode those particular sensations, but I still held a deep belief that I would be talked about by the staff, labeled as the son that did not care, and that rankled.  They had no idea what my childhood had been like or what the situation was so they could never comprehend why I elected not to come.  I desperately tried to stop fixating on the possibility that they were talking about me because it truly was irrelevant if they were or not.

It should not have mattered, but of course it did.

I guess the main thing that I chose to allow to hurt me was the fact that I was at heart a decent, caring guy and the idea that some people would not perceive me as decent clawed at my confidence. The one thing I had always wanted most in life was a mother and father who cared for me and while I believe that my dad had loved me I still never really understood why he had gone and my mom had never explained it to me.  So I had been left to conclude that I had not been wanted or loved in the way a child should be.  With rejection always comes pain and I believed I had suffered enough pain in my life and it was foolish to go looking for more when I did not have to.

So, I had gone back to my apartment and after seeing to the logistics of daily living I sat on my couch and watched television, or at least I looked at the television and let the sounds and light strike me. There was literally nothing I really wanted to do that evening.  Even the masses of pornography that I had accumulated over the past seven months held no real interest for me.  The bright light from the TV screen and from the computer screen seemed to have the same trigger effect on my brain, irrespective of what image was on the screen.  Both types of bright screen, with their electromagnetic pulses, seemed to engage my brain against my will.  Mindless, I thought.  I felt ready for a more solid form of stimulation.  I craved change.  In fact, I felt on the cusp of a major change but one that I was not able to identify.  Definite shifts were taking place, subtle changes reshaped my mind.  Most refreshingly, I felt no fear.  Normally I detested change; it unsettled me.  In different environments the Shadowed Soul somehow managed to take a stronger hold of me.  He would get his claws into the schisms of a different routine.  I had always been resistant in this way, so much so that I wondered at times whether I had obsessive-compulsive disorder.  However, now whatever change was coming felt like it could be momentous and good, something positive that would resonate throughout my life for years to come.  I felt hope.

As I basked in the warm euphoria that surrounded me it seemed entirely possible that I would recapture my previous life.  Within a few months Beth and I could be living together again, with our dog and our son. There was really no reason why that should not be possible; she still loved me and I absolutely adored her.  My illness was problematic and there would always be obstacles, after all Beth and I had lived together happily for a long time and I had always lived under the shadow, so it stood to reason that Beth and I could continue to build our family together. 

With this germ of a thought in my head I had no real reason why this episode of darkness had become bigger than usual. I speed dialed my wife. Her father answered.  Our awkward small talk was not especially nasty or bitter.  It was simply that between us an edge remained.  He was guarding his most prize possession:  His daughter.  I felt confident that with time we could overcome it.  While I waited for Beth I played with the soft fur on Bailey's head.

“Thomas!  How are you?”  Beth’s voice was like salve to my soul.

“Just wanted to hear you,” I said. Comforted, I sighed with gratitude.

“How is your mom?” asked Beth.

“No real change, I don't think she's improving.  The doctor said hold off on physical therapy.  She’s still too messed up.”

“Oh, baby, I'm so sorry,” said Beth, her voice full of sympathy and love. 

“Why can’t I be like you, Beth?” I asked with admiration in my voice.  Beth still believed that within my mother's atrophied heart there was an element of goodness.  I tried to see her point. 

“You and your mom are too close, baby,” said Beth softly.  “Forest for the trees!  She’s damaged.”

“So amazing, you forgive and forget,” I said.  “But you didn’t grow up with it.”

“Easy for me to say?” said Beth with a hint of irritation.

“Beth, can I ask you a question?”

“As long as it’s not geography,” she replied.  We laughed at our usual throw-away line.  Perhaps due to her visual impairment, Beth was indeed stumped by geography, although she was brilliant at so many other subjects.

“I see.  That's a pity because I was hoping to ask you what the capitol city of Outer Mongolia is,” I joked.

“I always hear people talking about Outer Mongolia but I never hear anyone talking about
Inner
Mongolia,” said Beth.  “If you have anything else you want to talk about I'm all ears.”

“Okay.”  I got serious.  “Can I ask why this time has been so different?”  There was a long pause and when she eventually spoke her voice sounded cagey.

“What do you mean?” asked Beth cautiously.

“Beth, I'm not trying to cause a fight,” I said defensively.  “I only want to know why this time has been so different. I mean, we’ve been together for a long time, and this isn't the first time I suffered from depression.  But you've never left me before.  So, I just need to know, have I been particularly bad this time?”

“You really don't understand, do you, Thomas?”  Beth sounded amazed and slightly hurt at my question.  I had literally no understanding of why that would be the case.

“I said something to annoy you?” I asked, perplexed.

“Jesus, Thomas, no, not really.  You really baffle me.”

“I'm sorry, Beth, I don't understand.”

“That's what baffles me, Thomas!  We could be together, or at least we could have been.  But you did everything in your power to sabotage that.  And I know you didn't mean to.  I know it wasn't a conscious thing but you did.”