The time will pass anyways

The bright light of the television screen fills the dimly lit living room. I’m watching Cartoon Network, and my mom is sitting 6 feet away from me. I’m perfectly still; she doesn’t know it’s past my bedtime. I’m hoping I can get the most out of this moment, I hate sleeping. My mom looks up from her phone, she looks at the TV, then the clock. Damnit.

“Alright honey it’s time for bed, come give me a hug and don’t forget to take your medicine.” My mom says softly. I love my mom, I definitely don’t love my medicine though. She slowly gets up and reaches for the remote, I’m still sitting on the couch. I’m pretending to be zoned out, just so I can stall before I go to bed.

“Now, please.” my mom muttered. 

“Okay, sorry.” I moaned. My mom’s voice was still soft but it had a hint of passive aggression. I guess I can’t stall anymore. I get up from the couch and walk over to the kitchen and reach up at once of the cabinets. I feel around with my hands for a little bit before taking out two pill bottles, one of them is Melatonin and the other is Alprazolam. I get a glass of water and pop both pills in my mouth. I don’t like pills, but I’m used to them by now. One of the pills is to help me sleep, but the other is for my anxiety. I honestly think that doctors are just selling my mom pills that do nothing because I’ve had loads of doctor visits and god knows how many kinds of pills and they all do the same thing; nothing. I walk over to my mom as she gives me a hug before she sits back down on the couch and changes the channel on the TV. I don’t know what she turned on but I don’t really care.

“Goodnight honey, sweet dreams! I love you!” My mom beams, she’s so nice. She doesn’t deserve me.

“I love you too, goodnight mom.” I also sorta kinda beam. I try to match her energy, but it’s hard. Even though it is my bedtime I’m not tired, I’m just upset I have to go to bed. I’m never tired at bedtime, only times I’m ever tired is during the day when I’m at school. Maybe I’m nocturnal or something.

I continue up the wooden steps going upstairs, still looking at my mom before I get all the way up and I can’t see her anymore. Now I’m alone, upstairs in the dark hallway. I’m unprotected. Something could be coming and I wouldn’t even see it. Even though it’s dark and I can’t see, I close my eyes and walk through the hallway to get to my bedroom. This is something I’ve done my whole life, closing my eyes in the dark even when I can’t see anyways. I do this because if there actually is something in the dark, I’d rather it kill me than have me see what it is… and also kill me. I feel around with my hands so I don’t walk face first into a wall, but I know my house pretty well. I get to my bedroom and feel around the wall for my light switch, then I see the lights come on through my eyelids and I open my eyes. I leave my bedroom door open, even though it leads to a dark hallway, that dark hallway also leads downstairs which is where my mom is. If this door is still open then it feels like I’m connected to her, I’m near her, in the same room as her. I shuffle over to my bathroom door, I open it  but I don’t look inside of the bathroom before I turn on the light. I hate mirrors in the dark, something about them is so creepy. I walk into the bathroom and look at my reflection in the mirror. I’m very physically underdeveloped, I just look like a skin suit that was vacuum sealed to a skeleton. I also have very noticeable eyebags, they’re very embarrassing. So is my body as well. I hate walking around, anywhere really. It’s honestly a weird feeling, almost like I should be ashamed to go out into public looking like this. But I’m stuck with this body and face for the rest of my life, and I can’t really do anything about it. I get my toothbrush and some toothpaste and begin brushing my teeth. It's difficult to brush because of my braces, but I’m used to it. My teeth are pretty yellow, I don’t know why though. I brush twice a day and I brush well, it seems like no matter how hard I try my teeth are always yellow. Let's just add that to the list of things I don’t like about myself. After I’m done brushing my teeth I just walk over to my bed and sit on it and stare at a wall. I don’t wanna go to bed. A sharp tingly feeling in my stomach begins building up and I begin tapping my feet. Please don’t make me go to sleep. I hate my bed and I hate sleeping. The night is trying to betray me, I just know it. I have lived my life not being able to appreciate the beauty of the night. People go to sleep at night as a reward for their hard work during the day, so they can get rest and get energy for their work that’s yet to come. For me, going to sleep has always been another hurdle I have to clear. I continue to sit while tapping my foot faster and faster, tears welling up in my eyes. Maybe the night is doing this to me on purpose. I haven’t done anything bad in my life, I’m generally a good kid, but maybe I was a bad person in a past life and I’m just dealing with karma right now or something. I get up and start pacing in circles in my room. Why does the night have to play with my trust and my feelings? I’m so tired all the time, I want that reward. That reward that people get at the end of the day, the reward of a good night’s sleep. After pacing in circles for a little bit I speed walk out of my room and sit at the top of the stairs. The TV is still on and my mom is on the phone with one of her friends, chatting and laughing and all that. I just sit up there in the dark and listen to her quietly as tears stream down my cheeks. I feel so safe around her, when I’m within earshot of another person. I don’t know why or how to explain it. Sometimes I feel like I’m too old to rely on my mom as much as I do. I’m thirteen years old, and I feel like most kids my age don’t worry endlessly about being with their mom. Just another thing for the list of things I don’t like about myself. I could go downstairs and talk to my mom, but she’d be mad at me. I’m not supposed to be awake right now, and when I tell her about my anxiety she always tells me something like; 

“Just try to find 3 good things that happened to you today.” God. I know she means well, but that doesn’t exactly help. Doctors have told me to do similar things with mind distraction games but those don’t help. What’s even worse is that when I say those don’t help they always tell me that I never try hard enough or something like that. Suddenly it gets quiet, the TV is still on but my mom stopped talking for some reason, then I hear my mom’s voice again.

“You can come downstairs.” she yelled. Damnit.

I slowly walk down the stairs and stop half way down to look at her. She gives me that look that moms give you when you do something wrong, but it’s only really a minor inconvenience. She sees the tears on my face, my shaking palms, the way I’m looking at her. She sighs, then softly says;

“Come over here and sit with me.” She says it in a way that doesn’t sound threatening, that’s good I guess.

I sit right next to her and she looks right into my eyes, she wants to say something but she’s blanking. Before she can say anything, I Interject.

“Mom, I’m so sorry. I know I’m not supposed to be up there and-”

“Please don’t be sorry.” she says softly. 

“What does the night want with me…” I whine, my voice breaks and I'm crying now. I really couldn’t care less though.

“I’m so tired, I just wanna sleep… But I can’t control my mind from thinking about stuff that I don’t want to think about…”

My mom strokes my back. “You know I was just like you when I was your age. I never wanted to go to sleep, I was always worried about something. Something that I couldn’t even articulate.”

My eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes, really. In a way, anxiety is good. It’s just the human body’s natural response to worry about something it doesn’t like. But, I mean, the way I see it, why should you worry about something that’s out of your control? Whether you worry about it or not, it’s still going to happen. Take school for example, I know you spend a lot of time worrying about that. School still passes anyways, and every day you come home and tell me that you had a good day at school. I want you to know I’m not denying your feelings either, I know that no one likes going to school or whatever you’re worried about. My point is that it’s always half as bad as you make it out to be, and the time will pass anyways.”

I stop and think for a moment, I guess I’ve never thought of it like that. “That’s going to be harder said than done, you know. You’re practically just telling me to stop worrying.” I reply.

“I know it’s hard, it just takes time is all.” my mom consoles me.

“That will take too long, I just want an instant solution and not something that will take months or years.” I say, my voice is a little louder.

My mom puts her hand on mine and looks at me right in the eyes. “The time will pass anyways.” she whispers, her voice calms me down.

For once, I stop worrying and just think. I think a lot. I sat there at night with my mom on the couch, we’re both watching whatever was on the TV, I think it might’ve been a cooking show or something. Right here in this moment, I feel good. I feel safe, there’s not anything that’s actively on my mind. It’s pretty refreshing honestly. After a while, my mom sends me back to my room to go to bed. At this point I’m too tired to be anxious about anything. I lay my head on my pillow and fall right asleep. I know that learning not to worry is going to take forever. It could take months, maybe even years. I don’t even know if it’s guaranteed to help me out fully. I don’t see why I shouldn’t do it, because the time will pass anyways.