Getting Better Every Day

Trigger Warning: "Mental health" and "suicide or self harm"

It was the last Tuesday of the month, so I’m treating myself to Golden Rings, my favorite pan-Asian cuisine restaurant. As I bite into a crab Rangoon oozing with cream cheese and dripping with sweet and sour sauce, I think about how decadent it is. The couple in the booth to the right and a little ahead of me suddenly catches my attention. The woman offers the man a bite of her dessert. He evidently likes it as he asks her something and looks around. He must be wondering where she found it. She lightly taps his slightly protruding stomach with her finger, and he deflates a little. It was such an intimate gesture, the mild criticism something only a significant other could get away with and only to realign him with his weight-loss goals in his moment of weakness. The naked display of familiarity and understanding was so intimate I wouldn’t have been more embarrassed if he suddenly bent her over the table. Okay, that would have been worse.

And worse yet was realizing that no one could look at me like that. Ever. I am still inherently unlovable, so far away from exuding the qualities necessary to attract and maintain a relationship with a decent person. When I was little, I thought I would have a good life. My parent taught me that being smart, talented, and hardworking would guarantee success. But almost everyone I know is smart, talented, and hardworking, and many of us can’t even pay our monthly bills—never mind get out of debt or save money!

Pulling up the cloud version of the list from my phone, I add “Recognize and gently remind SO of goals when temptation might take over.” I keep trying to be perfect. If I’m the perfect employee, friend, daughter, neighbor, sister… then I will finally be worth something. If I keep working on becoming a better person, if I keep evolving, maybe God will reward me with love and solvency. Right now, I know that the things I do can’t make up for the evil I am. But if I figure out the right combination of behaviors, thoughts, and feelings… if I can list them, I can follow the list. If I follow the list, I can become worthy. But I feel so broken. I feel like no one could ever love me, so should I even keep trying? Then I take a deep breath and give myself this affirmation: You’re okay, Katie. Hang in there. You can always kill yourself tomorrow.

I switch back to my news article. Ugh. Another mass shooting. I scroll to the “agony aunts” section of the Purloined Pen instead. The national daily paper carries syndicated advice columns, and I read the readers’ comments with more pleasure than the actual columnists’ advice. It is surprising how wise they seem and how I have started to look forward to specific readers like GossipGirl and BubbaGrump. Maybe I should write a letter just to read the comments. I take another bite of my lo mein and try to shut off my brain.

Driving back to work, my tongue running along the inside of my teeth, I realize I need to add another rule and speak aloud, “Call voicemail.” My virtual assistant rings my own number. After my outgoing message concluded—ugh, I need to figure out how to change my voice!—I change lanes and say, “Carry disposable floss picks and tiny toothbrushes in the car.. and travel size mouthwash!” I only eat out on the last Tuesday of the month, but I had previously included “After every meal and before bed, floss, brush teeth and tongue for two minutes, and use mouthwash, swishing for at least 30 seconds before spitting it out.” It will be easier to do that if I keep a few hygiene items in the car.

Barry opens the door for me as I walk into the office, and I smile my most dazzling smile. Then I remember I hadn’t brushed my teeth and close my lips. “Thanks, Barry!” It’s important to be polite. I look at the clock and realized I was only four minutes early. Damn, it’s supposed to be five minutes. DARN! I need to stop swearing! I need to remember that long enough to add it to the list. This is killing me. I can never get it right.

As Debra walks by, she stops and asks “Katie, did you hear that Mike wants a meeting at 3?” I hadn’t. I thank her and smile. Then I remember my filthy mouth again and close my lips. I don’t know why I keep trying. Even just these daily exchanges feel onerous. I like Debra though, and that gives me an idea. I open my list. First for the old idea. Under the Oral Health subsection of the Health Habits part of the list, I add “Carry disposable oral hygiene items in the car.” There. That’s a better way to phrase it. I’ll have to remember to delete the voicemail later.

Next I scroll down to the Career section. “Surprise coworkers with their favorite coffee orders once a month.” That would be a nice way to show appreciation… unless the routine of it would make the gesture less appreciated. Should I make it less than monthly? I’ll have to think about that. Wait, should it be in the Philanthropy section instead? No, it’s not pure giving and is specifically for my coworkers, not a local shelter or anonymous needy person.

As I work on the Aldridge case, I remember I need to send a quick email to Jennifer: “I’m at work, but I’m thinking of you and love you. Should I call you tonight?” Every day, I try to reach out to at least one person for a quick exchange. Authentic, appreciative communication builds friendships. I do love my friends. They are amazing. I don’t know what they see in me. Sometimes even just texting feels overwhelming. I start to think about checking out again. If interacting with my favorite people is this hard, then there’s no way I can get better, be better, and have a better life. I close my office door and cry at my desk. You’re okay, Katie. Hang in there. You can always kill yourself tomorrow.

As Mike starts the meeting, he seems grim. I realize something I need to add to the list. I still use a notebook for meetings and classes. I’m not a Luddite, but I feel like I remember more with the tactile sensation of writing rather than just typing. I quickly add to the margin “Color code meeting notes and add ‘key takeaways and action steps’ immediately after the meeting ends.”

Mike looks around at our expectant faces, “I’m so sorry. Everything is changing. We’ve lost our funding. I’ll be meeting with each of you individually on how we can best help you transition.” The shock and dismay in the room is palpable. A few people start crying, but I just have to get out of the room. I put my notes on my desk. I really loved this job. It took six months to find it. We probably got our budget cut because I ate out. No, that’s magical thinking. Stop it, Katie.

BUT WHAT AM I GOING TO DO? I’m already struggling to pay bills. I’ve been trying so hard to be the perfect employee. I thought I was getting better. I thought I was starting to demonstrate value. And it didn’t matter. I am never going to be enough. Hearing my coworkers shuffling out of the conference room to their offices, I head up to the roof. As I watch the sidewalk reach up to meet me, I feel wanted for the first time. Why did I keep fighting so long? I should have done this sooner.