Member-only story
Diverted Sunday
When the day doesn’t go as planned, and yet, it goes as it was meant to go
Disclaimer: Some names and details have been changed to protect privacy.
My list was full that Sunday morning. I mean, it kind of had to be, since I’d hit a brick wall the day before. An uncertain employment situation had sent me into a tailspin, the depression that I thought was gone pouring back into my consciousness like viscous ink. I made it to the gym and the grocery store, then sat on the couch and watched the Saturday Night Live 50th Anniversary Show, the one I’d taped the Sunday night before.
Numbly, I laughed at some bits and cringed at others. The last segment, where the actors come out and chat while the band plays, sent tears down my cheeks. They mean so much to each other. Does anyone care that much about me?
Not a fair question, considering I have a spouse, two sons, and a stepson who not only share my house, but frequently tell me they love me. I have other stepchildren who also express love, and friends that are a text away. My parents are still alive, and we talk often. But the ache that plagues me is wondering if I really make a difference in anyone’s life.
If you have clinical depression, you understand this. I knew I had to pop this emotional pimple, squeeze out the pus, and swab it down with some 70-percent alcohol because dammit, Sunday was my youngest’s birthday. He’s an empath, like me, and I needed to be emotionally present for him.
So I set my face like flint toward this Sunday, determined to be happier and get a handful of things done. The sun was out, which gave me a little lift. My oldest son took me out to lunch, and I had the first garlicky calzone I’d had in ages. Later that afternoon, when I was helping my son with summer travel plans, I heard my spouse’s steps on the second floor, rushing about.
“I almost forgot,” he called down the stairs. “I have to take Rae to work.”
Oh, right. Rae was my eldest stepdaughter. He’d mentioned it yesterday, because her car was out of commission. And I needed to get medicine, but my car was in the garage, with one of the teens’ cars sandwiched between it and my spouse’s. And then there was that candle, the one I was going to take…
