One Simple Gesture

(TW … depression, suicidal thoughts)

“I honestly don’t know why I should even care anymore.” It was an unpleasant thought. She knew that. It was a thought to fight off, to wrestle to the ground and beat senseless, walking away the victor. She knew that.

“Why do I bother? There is no point.” These thoughts, as if best friends, seem to show up together. The power of two makes it harder to fend off, needing a one-two punch to knock them both out.

She had fought this demon many times in her life. It was an entity that lurked around her, above her, swirling and taunting. At times it had retreated to the background in silence. Out of sight and out of mind? Almost.

The recent isolation had opened the door for the depression to enter her life again. Like an invitation to a birthday party but instead of balloons and streamers it decorated the space with darkness.

She walked down the aisle without choosing anything. Forgetting to grab a basket on her way in, she held the few selected items in her arms. Protein bars. They make a good meal at her desk without requiring any prep or thought. That’s a plus. Cereal. A staple to be eaten for breakfast or a late night snack. Another plus.

Stopping in the hair care aisle she stared at the vast array of products. Absentmindedly she twisted a piece of hair round and round her finger and then let it go adding to the mass of curls that did their own thing despite her efforts. She fantasized about getting a new hairstyle, walking past a reflection knowing that she looked good and felt good. Then she remembered the discomfort in the salon seat, the cape making her feel small and unattractive with her wet hair slicked back, the stranger’s hands pulling a comb through her knots. She grabbed a conditioner for curly hair putting an end to the fantasy.

Struggling to hold her meager collection of items she again wondered, “Why bother”. She still didn’t have anything picked out for dinner despite roaming up and down the aisles. Looking at the meats, she was reminded of her mediocre cooking skills. She stood rooted to the spot staring at the choices for who knows how long. It just wasn’t worth it, she decided. It really wasn’t worth the effort.

Walking to the front of the store in a trance-like state her thoughts went to the place that she would never allow them to go. A surprising calmness seeped into her as she considered the possibilities; the calmness turning into relief as the thoughts grew stronger and more defined. She was young, had no children for whom she was responsible. That in itself was a blessing and a curse. Otherwise, she would rise to the occasion. Drifting away from friends over the years, she resorted to commenting on social media posts and the occasional text. It became a better alternative than making plans, which she would inevitably cancel. As for coworkers, her home office allowed her the luxury of solitude. She really could just slip out of this existence unnoticed.

Her thoughts went to her mother. How would she find out? The news would be devastating enough to destroy her. Would she recover? If she were able to find the words she could explain that it wasn’t her fault, that she had done nothing wrong as a parent. It was within herself, this depression, this monster that threatened her very life. Maybe she should write a letter while it was on her mind just in case. If the enemy won she didn’t want her words unsaid.

Suddenly a flashback of herself a few years prior came to mind. As a teenager she had built up the courage to let her mother in on her feelings. It came out all wrong, she remembered, sounding spoiled, petty, ungrateful. She hadn’t been able to draw the picture of her emotions. And then the quick response came. “Snap out of it.” Oh, if it were only that easy. Snap out of it. How she longed to Snap Out Of It.

Her turn at the register, the cashier asked the perfunctory questions. Did you find everything you were looking for tonight? Yes, thank you. Cash or charge? Charge, please. Would you like a bag? No, thank you. Maybe she should have chosen the self-checkout line. 

“Let me know what you think of that conditioner. I’ve been meaning to try it.”

“Oh yeah.” She looked down somewhat surprised that she had picked it out. She felt like she was just waking up, a bit groggy. 

“I love your curls by the way. My hair just turns to frizz no matter what. No fair.”

She looked at the young cashier with her hair pulled into a ponytail. “No, it’s cute. I like it.”

“Yeah?” She brightened up, smiled. 

“Yeah. Definitely.” 

After swiping her card, she laid the cereal box down flat in the bagging area and arranged her items on it. As if it were a tray, she picked up the box and turned to walk toward the exit. The cashier smiled, commenting, “You look like a waitress.”

Always quick with a comeback she replied, “Would you like fries with that?”

The two women looked at each other and unexpectedly laughed. Something clicked inside her with the release of endorphins. She felt lighter, healthier, awake. 

How did her mood change so rapidly, going from the depths of despair to laughing in the blink of an eye? Was the most basic conversation, just a few lines of banter back and forth, enough to bring her back from the brink? One small compliment, one silly off hand joke. The automatic door opened, and she walked through into the evening catching the tail end of the sunset. The cool air felt good.

Her thoughts returned to the letter for her mother. Should she still write it just in case? She could tuck it into the drawer of her night table to be easily discovered. She thought of the one simple gesture, the cashier choosing to converse with her, that changed the outcome of the evening. Looking back into the grocery store as the automatic door was closing, she caught a glimpse of the young lady. She was smiling warmly at the next customer. This time the one simple gesture was a smile. As she turned away she saw the customers at the self checkout going through the motions, looking alarmingly similar to how she had felt just moments ago.