I’m Anxious and Depressed! What about you?

Are you also – Anxious and Depressed – too?

Then we both are!

Don’t text anyone! They won’t believe us – you know that!

How boring – to actually be – Mentally Healthy!

How out there – like a Rat –

That steals his Pizza – dirty Subway Pizza –

To an admiring New York!

(Modern Interpretation of Emily Dickinson's "I'm Nobody! Who are you?")

Leanne poked the lumps in her mashed potatoes with a fork. She didn’t understand how Aunt Patty could never manage to remove them even though she used a hand-held mixer to mash potatoes. Leanne grabbed a forkful of potatoes sans lumps and swallowed the creamy starch. She glanced around the table. Aunt Patty ignored her food and kept refilling her glass, which was strange. She usually never shut up about how good her food was during dinner. Uncle Roger was concentrating on eating everything on his plate. Leanne’s four cousins whispered to each other and giggled at Leanne when they thought she couldn’t see them. She was used to being made fun of by them by now. Leanne’s mom was fixing her blouse for the thousandth time since sitting down, trying to get the worn out material to stop sliding off her shoulders.

Every Thanksgiving was celebrated the same way. Leanne and her mom went to Aunt Patty’s house. Aunt Patty bossed Leanne’s mom around and Leanne’s mom never complained. Without Aunt Patty and Uncle Roger, instead of a Thanksgiving feast, Leanne and her mom would be eating TV dinners they bought on sale from Wal-Mart. Leanne knew nothing about her dad and her mom changed the subject if she asked about him. Aunt Patty always gave Leanne a present when she came over on Thanksgiving as if to make up for his absence. Last year it had been a rosary. This year it was a cross necklace. Leanne gave these presents to her mom when Aunt Patty’s back was turned. Leanne’s mom rolled her eyes at the gifts and donated them to Goodwill.

Leanne started sawing the slice of turkey on her plate. The plate was cleared enough that she could read the words, Blessed Day, that had been painted on the plate. Leanne’s cousin, Mary, had decorated the plate at a youth group event at church. Leanne had been staying with Aunt Patty at the time, because her mom was at a work conference, and had been forced to go with Mary. Leanne accidentally-on-purpose broke her own plate. Leanne was still sawing at the same slice of Turkey and her fingers were starting to cramp from the effort.

“Leanne, stop messing around with that turkey!” Aunt Patty yelled.

The room grew silent. Leanne had never heard Aunt Patty yell. Her cousins tried to hide their grins by hurriedly stuffing their mouths with mashed potatoes. Uncle Roger was frozen in place. A forkful of turkey drowned in gravy had halted halfway to his mouth. Leanne’s mom looked nervous and she was gripping her fork so tight Leanne could see the outline of the bones in her knuckles. Aunt Patty’s face was red and she took a deep gulp from her glass that Leanne guessed wasn’t cranberry juice. Leanne had been born after Aunt Patty became sober and had never seen her drunk. Leanne’s mom rose halfway up from her seat, still gripping onto her fork, before Aunt Patty yelled at her to sit down.

“Don’t you dare try to calm me down, Stacy!” Aunt Patty yelled at her. She pointed her glass to Leanne and red liquid swished dangerously from side to side. “I saw you give the necklace to your mom!” Red liquid sloshed around as the glass was pointed to Leanne’s mom, who now looked like a deer caught in headlights. “I saw you roll your eyes at me, Stacy! How dare you? I’m trying to help your daughter! She needs as much help as she can get to get into heaven after being born in prison!”

Leanne’s cousins stared at their mom. Mashed potato brew dripped from their mouths that were open from shock. Uncle Roger’s fork slipped from his grasp and fell on his plate. Gravy splashed all over his shirt. Leanne’s mom cradled her head in her hands and her blouse slipped halfway off her shoulders. Aunt Patty took another gulp from her drink and let out a giant burp.

Leanne stared at her plate. She wished she hadn’t eaten the mashed potatoes. The words, Blessed Day, looked up at her. They were soon covered up as Leanne threw up on her plate. That was the last time she was invited to celebrate Thanksgiving at Aunt Patty’s house.

#itslit #getlit #prosechallenge

Lie down on the cold wax paper,

Legs open wide.

Metal sticks inserted and moved around.

Check for diseases, for what’s been shared.

If it stings, hold your tongue,

You’ve been taught not to make a sound.

Swallow the blue pill three weeks,

Gulp down the green pill for one.

Make sure there isn’t a baby’s cry.

Be told the pills are forbidden

By men who don’t feel a baby’s body

Rips its way free from yours.

Watch blood stain clean water.

Keel over in pain.

Block your groans with a fist in mouth.

Let slip a sign of frustration.

Be told you don’t have an excuse.

It’s divine punishment, a woman’s role.

Find someone and exchange consent.

Share bodies, pant, desperate for a pleasing scream.

Be found without consent.

Legs ripped wide open.

Cry, breathe hard, and desperate for it to end.

Be told it’s your fault.

Your body, their rules.

Broken system, broken woman.

I’ve won and still must Fight.

I’ve punched that glass Ceiling

My knuckles keep Bleeding

But that won’t keep me from Leading.

“What the heck?!?!”

“Heather, will you calm down?”

“How the hell am I supposed to calm down Brittany? My leg is stuck in a freaking fence!”

I look at my sister with eyes opened wide and filled with panic. I’m breathing so hard I’m practically panting. My left leg is in an odd angle and my foot is stuck at the bottom of a ripped out hole in a chain-link fence that’s large enough for someone to go through if they duck. Brittany crouches down and looks at the cuff of my jeans which has been caught by the sharp barbs of the chain-link fence. I start feeling claustrophobic and whip my head back and forth between trying to see what she’s doing and looking back at the river behind me that’s coursing down so loudly it sounds like a thunderstorm is happening.

“Will you stay still?” Brittany mutters at me. Brittany has always been more level-headed than me, even though I’m older than her by two years. It’s weird that someone’s who’s just fourteen is much more mature than me.

I didn’t realize how worn down my jeans were. From what I can see, the cuffs are more string than jean and the string has become entangled with the chain-link. It’s like trying to unknot necklaces after transporting them together in a bag: a pain-in-the-ass. Her impatience isn’t helping.

After five minutes, at least I think it’s that long, could be shorter for all I know since I’m not timing her, Brittany’s able to untangle my jeans by ripping off the strands connected to the fence. I’m not overly concerned over the damage. It’s long past their time to be thrown out.

“There you go!” Brittany springs up and bows at me. She straightens up and gives me a goofy smile. I’m not in such a good mood.

“What the hell took you so long?” I gingerly move my foot away from the fence and step on it warily. Did I twist it?

“You’re very welcome. Pleased to be of service”

“Stop being such a smarty pants. Let’s get out of here.”

We start running but we don’t go as fast as we hope, or at least as fast as Brittany wants judging from her whispers at me to hurry up. My legs feel stiff and I’m limping; I think I really did twist my foot.

“Remind me again why we’re in a hurry?” I gasp out at her, holding onto my side that feels like it’s on fire.

“Because if you don’t get back home before mom comes you’re going to get caught for skinny dipping in the river and get into so much trouble you’ll forget what sunlight feels like.” Even though she’s running faster than me she isn’t out of breath or clutching her side. In fact, she’s holding herself up pretty well. I, on the other hand, think I’m going to pass out if I don’t get to take a break soon.

“Right. And why did we go skinny dipping again?”

“Because mom forbid you from going to the river and since we never agree with her, your first instinct was to do what we knew would piss her off the most,” Brittany’s face is now positioned in what I affectionately refer to as her bitch-face. I laugh at how serious she is but have to quickly stop because I don’t have enough oxygen to laugh and breathe.

We soon arrive in front of our white-picket fence with the red mailbox standing guard in front of the gate. I pat the mailbox affectionately and go ahead in front of Brittany to enter our home first. In the front hallway I hear an excited bark and our golden-retriever Max runs up to me, his tongue lagging out and his tail wagging. I hug him tightly and look up at Brittany who’s smiling at Max, her eyes gleaming. When he looks at her he suddenly starts growling and bares his teeth at her. Brittany’s face falls and she steps back when he starts barking at her. The last time he barked like that was when someone was trying to break into the house.

“Stop it Max! What’s wrong with you?” I try to pull him away from Brittany but he won’t budge. Every muscle is on high alert and he looks more like a wolf than dog right now. Brittany’s now glaring at Max but her lips are curled in a half-smile. She walks towards him and laughs when he starts whimpering and runs away.

“What the heck was his problem?” I ask and look at Brittany helplessly. She always has the answers. She just shrugs and heads towards the staircase.

“Ignore him. He probably ate something weird outside.”

We both walk up to the bedroom we’ve shared since Brittany was born. My side is covered in posters of Lana del Rey and Ellie Goulding and my clothes, makeup, and books are scattered everywhere. Brittany’s side is completely clean. Nothing hangs on the walls and her possessions are all hidden in drawers; even her bed is plain, just a white sheet and pillow cover it.

“You should really spice up your side,” I remark at her, “Why did you take down your drawings?”

Brittany briefly glances at her bed and shrugs, “I like your stuff better. I feel like you have more than we need to decorate this room.” She stops talking and whips her head towards the door. I also heard the front door open and mom’s greeting.

“Heather, where are you?”

“In my room, mom!” I yell back at her. I furtively glance at Brittany. “Do you think she knows about the skinny dipping?” I’m suddenly nervous. I know we should have never gone down to the river after that time Brittany and I almost drowned in it last summer during the hurricane, but I couldn’t help it. Brittany was so excited about the idea and her excitement is infectious. Now that we’re home though and I’m about to face my mom, I don’t want to get into trouble. I look at Brittany in panic and she smiles at me.

“Stop freaking out! You’ll be fine. I doubt she’ll know what you did.”

We hear footsteps on the landing and soon my mom walks in. I can tell she’s had a long day. Her hair is limp and there are bags under her eyes. She hasn’t been feeling that well. Actually, she hasn’t been doing well ever since last summer. That’s why she’s made me come to therapy with her, so that I can understand what she’s going through. I don’t like her therapist. He never makes a lot of sense and says ridiculous things so I’ve learned to just tune him out and use the forty-five minutes to plan what I’ll do with Brittany later.

Mom walks over to me and gives me a wan smile.

“Hi honey. I got dinner from KFC. If you set the table we can eat.”

I grin. KFC is our favorite fast food. Something about heaps of fried chicken is like an art form for us. I turn to share my excitement with Brittany but mom interrupts me before I can speak.

“Honey, what are you looking at?”

Brittany glares at her and gives her the same half smile she gave Max. I look at mom in surprise.

“Brittany,” I tell her confused. I don’t know how I didn’t notice before but my mom’s eyes are red and now they’re slowly filling up with tears. Completely ignoring Brittany she walks to the plain nightstand Brittany’s standing in front of and picks up a framed photo of the two of us that we took last summer, two weeks before the hurricane. Its Brittany’s favorite because her blond hair is glowing in the sun and her blue eyes are shining. I look almost muted in comparison with my black pixie cut and pale face. Mom puts down the frame and I hear her take a big sniff.

“Okay. Well honey, come when you’re ready then,” She turns back to me and gives me a watery attempt at a smile. She touches my arm lightly, and still completely ignoring Brittany, walks out of the room.

I look at Brittany, “What was that about?” I ask, “Do you think working long hours has finally gotten to her?”

Brittany doesn’t say anything and just continues to look at the door where our mom left. I wonder what she’s thinking. I shrug and follow my mom out to set the table. I turn to look behind me but Brittany doesn’t move, just glares at me while giving me a half-smile.