Shadowed Soul (30 page)

“No, sorry, you misunderstand me,” said Dr. Wauneka.  “The baby that your wife is carrying.  Vitals are fine and we don’t think that the seizure has caused any damage.”  The doctor continued talking but I had stopped listening:  Beth was pregnant again.  We had pretty much resigned ourselves to the likelihood that it could not happen a second time.  It had been difficult enough conceiving Jonathan but a second baby seemed impossible?

“Doctor, how far along is she?” I asked bluntly, cutting her off.

“Around thirteen weeks, we think, from the size and development of the fetus.”

“Christmas, we had sex at Christmas,” I said and she paused and looked at me, hopefully attributing the overly informative nature of my statement to shock.

Bailey and I pushed Jonathan’s stroller along the familiar street.  The past few days had made me do a lot of thinking and although I could not finish the list of ten things I loved about myself and my life, ironically I found it quite difficult to narrow things down, I had still managed to reach some important conclusions.  I was motivated to get a job, something that mattered, and something in which I could use my masters degree and I planned to consolidate my family under one roof.  I had let too many things go past me and this had to stop.  The only way that I would fully control the Shadowed Soul was to focus on developing my way of thinking, my way of being.  I stopped at the door; flashes from my childhood skimmed the edge of my consciousness as the chipped, red paint flaked off when I knocked.

Beth smiled as I entered her room.  She looked tired and drawn but more beautiful than ever.  We held each other and I explained how Bailey had alerted to me.  She had smiled and cried and laughed and I had done the same.  Jonathan laid between us, sleeping peacefully, a happy smile on his tiny face.

“I’m pregnant, Thomas,” said Beth finally.

“I know,” I said contentedly.

“I only found out tonight.  I thought that my periods were being affected by the medication that I’m on but…the doctor thinks that the seizure was brought on by the pregnancy.”

“Does that mean you’ll keep having them?”

“I don’t know, I don‘t think so, she says that there are supplements that people can take and ways to manage it and…” said Beth pausing to look at me.  “Are you okay?”

“What?  Yes, yes, I’m fine, I’m more than fine,” I said and held her hand.

“I know that having Jonathan has been hard on you and I didn’t mean to get pregnant, baby.”  Beth’s face was etched with concern and worry.  I leaned forwards and kissed her forehead.

“Beth, I love you,” I said.  “I love Jonathan and I’ll love the new baby.” I paused. “I thought that I had lost you, both of you and even though I’ve been doing my best to push you all away for months the actual fact of nearly losing you has made me understand how much I want you and I want my family.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I promise.”  I held her hand.  “Beth, I am so sorry.  I was letting my depression be the whole of me rather than just part of me.  I know that can change and I am changing it, and determined to continue.  I hope that you understand that I will be doing my best.  And that if I try to push you away again then you’ll kick my ass?”  Beth looked at me, tears welling in her eyes and she nodded once.

“Consider it kicked,” said Beth.  I laughed and held her and the world began to make sense once more.

The once-glossy, red door opened and a tall man with a gaunt face answered.

“Yes?  Can I help…?”  His voice trailed off as recognition filled his eyes and the moment that followed seemed to last for an eternity.  He looked at me in shock.  I could not blame him.  I had been preparing for this for days, if not forever.  He was older than I expected but in his narrow features I could still see the face of the man that I barely remembered, the man who had been etched into my soul my entire life.  His hair was thin but his eyes were still alert and sparking with fierce intelligence.

“Tommy?”  His voice was laced with emotion and memories and I smiled and nodded, and a smile spread across his face.

“Hi, dad.” I looked at him.  “I just wanted to say hi and introduce you to your grandson.”

He regarded me for a long moment and then held out his arms.  I moved into his embrace.  As we hugged, I understood that life remained simply what it had always been:  A gift completely full of possibilities.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Spring blossomed into summer.  Perhaps for the first time in years I felt the warmth and light of the season in my heart as well as on my face and body.  I glanced at my watch and frowned, I was going to be late and Beth would not be pleased.  I saved the document that I had been working on and closed my laptop lid and quickly threw my jacket on.  She had left with Bailey and Jonathan about an hour earlier and I had begged for the chance to stay and finish my essay.  My time was at a premium these days and I could not have been happier with the situation.

Since Beth’s seizure, I was reminded of what a precious gift with her each day was.  She would have been taken from me if Bailey had not sensed that she was in trouble.  However, since then I had begun to cement my life into a solid scaffold that I was happy with.  Sophie had helped me find a place that held a support group for people, all of whom were in various stages of captivity, prisoners of their own Shadowed Souls.  I had gone along and then I had offered my services as a volunteer.  This would have appalled me a few months previously.  I understood that when I saw myself as a freak, my attitude also seeped into the opinion I held of the millions of people who suffered depression like me.  However, with my acceptance of my illness had come an opening of my mind.  At the group support center I had found that the people who suffered from clinical depression were as different from each other as it was possible to be and the only bond they had was the illness.  I had made some genuine friends amongst the regulars and there were some to whom I was only polite.  It turned out that people with depression were, in most ways, exactly the same as those without, rich, poor, educated, and less so, some kind, some not so, all genders, races, religions and creeds.

Through the support center’s manager, a tall and rotund man called Frank, I found a path that would allow me to earn certification to qualify me to start making a career and a living out of this area of support.  I found helping others very gratifying and so I leapt at the chance and was now six weeks into an online course that had opened my eyes and mind in ways that I would never considered.

I walked out of the apartment into the hot summer’s day.  On my way across the street I smiled and stole a glance back at the building.  Beth and Jonathan were gradually moving back in with me.  We both knew that it would be a slow process and even though the apartment would not last us forever, especially with a new baby on the way, for now, it would do just fine, simply to be together as a family.  With every visit they made and with every toy or piece of clothing that found its way into our apartment, the place felt more and more like a home. 

I turned and moved to my bicycle that was padlocked to the railing lining the front of the brownstone.  I had heard so many rumors that exercise was a good thing, that the focus and physical benefits combined could keep any depression at bay.  Chasing endorphins, I could also save money on bus fair and I spent more time in the fresh air.  The wind on my face was much better than a public bus.  I pushed off and started cycling toward the church.

I still visited Sophie occasionally when I needed her.  But the professional relationship that we had was slowly deconstructing and this would have made me sad were it not for the fact that Beth and Sophie had become friends.  I was not sure when this had happened, in fact neither of them could pinpoint the moment when they discovered that they liked each other but it had happened and over months they had developed a bond that made them happy and made me happy.

The city seemed glorious; sunlight and joy surrounded me and I savored the feeling of having survived.  I knew that
he
would be back someday, that he would escape from the imaginary jail cell that I had placed him in but I had changed.  Maybe the victory was not enough to ever fully defeat him but it was enough to be ready and to understand and to harness his negativity and use it in a positive, creative way.

The church loomed ahead of me and I saw as I pedaled up that my father was standing outside talking to Pete.  They made an odd couple, Pete being effusively masculine and cheerful and my father, tall and thin and still slightly bewildered by the way his past and his present had converged.  However, Pete was a man who could talk to anyone and as I locked my bike I heard the punch line to what may have been the dirtiest joke I had ever heard.  My father guffawed and I smiled.

“Outside a church, Pete?” I admonished.

“God loves a dirty joke,” confirmed Pete chuckling and looked at my dad. “What do you think, Tony?”

“I think even He would blush at that one, Pete,” said my father wiping tears of laughter from his eyes and then looked at me. “Thank you for inviting me to your family event, son.”

“You
are
family, dad, and Beth wanted you here, too.” I nodded a little before stepping into an awkward man-hug.  To be honest it was proving to be a hard road to travel after all.  The initial joyful reunion had developed a gritty realism and we both realized that we had no real idea who each other was.  It turned out that I had a half-sister somewhere in Chicago; my father had met someone and due to his issues after the war it had not lasted, and he had moved on.  And his daughter seemed to have had her own demons to contend with and they had drifted apart.  Maybe in time I would meet her and then again maybe I would not.  There were so many different possibilities that were presented to each of us, different paths that would face each of us on a daily basis that divining a future was almost impossible. “I really wanted you here, dad.”

Beth appeared at the door of the church and looked at us all with mock admonishment across her beautiful face.  Bailey wiggled and grinned as he saw me, his tail thumping happily against the frame of the church door.

“Do you men want to come in or will we just christen your grandson without you?” 

I smiled and kissed Beth’s cheek before we linked our hands and walked into the church.  The day was much more than the Christening of my son, Jonathan.  It was a consolidation of the life that I was now going to lead, one that would never be free from pain, because nobody is ever blessed with a life that is completely free from contrasts.  Pain and hardship find each of us at different times and we learn to deal with them, or we don’t.  The complexities of the human mind mean that this utopian ideal is nothing more than an empty promise and hope.  The one thing that we can hope for is that when we go through whatever life brings to us that we have the support and courage to carry on.

It had been nearly a year for me and now it was summer and the sun was shining, but as sure as night always follows day, the sunshine would eventually vanish to be replaced by the cold and I would be prepared.

Ready, waiting and strong enough to prevail willingly.

The End

John M. Spagnoli is the author of
Shadowed Soul
and
How to Grow Worsleya Seeds
.  Avid gardener, poet, husband and father, he hales from Metropolitan New York and is currently working on a Masters from Mercy College and holds a B.A. in Anthropology from State University of New York, New Paltz.  As a successful, self-managing, bi-polar gentleman the author found solutions that have enabled him to form strategies toward leading a joyful life which he has chosen to share in
Shadowed Soul
.  Dedicated to raising awareness about depression,
Shadowed Soul
is the first in a fictionalized series that includes researched cases of manic-depressives who beat it, as well as some of the author’s personal experiences. 

Author’s Note

With a suicide attempt behind me, my dog was my only friend.  I was separated from my beloved wife for the umpteenth time, clinically depressed, unemployed, paranoid, self-destructive and in need of a shave.  20/20 hind-sight, I was growing.  Some people pay big bucks for hard times that challenge them enough to make them grow.   Look at the popularity of
extreme sports
and sub-zero camping!  I got my challenges for free, since childhood.  The upshot of these challenges left my life a wreck, but resulted in this work of fiction,
Shadowed Soul
and a whole new chapter in my life that has turned out to be very fulfilling.  Based on my own experiences, research, and interviews with others who have suffered manic-depression, I have attempted to provide an accurate essay useful to others.

When I wrote this book, I did not intend to write a book.  My goal was to survive another day and get my emotions out on paper.  When things were bad, I felt like I had my own personal, angry shadow that followed me around; that obsession became a habit.  When my wife suggested
Shadowed Soul
would make a reasonably worthwhile book, I fictionalized it, changed personal details, chronology, and embellished to ensure the over-arching storyline would be more engaging, e.g., the main character’s online pornography addiction is fiction as is the demise of certain relatives.  In putting
Shadowed Soul
out to the public, I hope it is of service to people who may recognize patterns in it, either in themselves or in a loved one.  If it is of any help to anyone, then my mission with the book is a success.