The last threads of daylight hang suspended above the mountains, birds have gone to sleep, leaving the muted hum of city life take over.
I too have been quiet lately… Muted, but not gone. Sometimes going under in the storm of Mr Xmas’s depression, but soon bobbing back up and carrying on with a steady stroke.
After years of practice, I am a master of resilience. I can juggle a demanding new job, tax returns, play dates, and still think up ways to cheer up a miserable Mr Xmas. But there are also the times when I feel worn out, and so lonely I could cry…
Bless his heart, Mr Xmas is trying, and I am touched by his efforts be there for me and to help. He truly loves me.
But most of the time, he just isn’t really there, lost in the private hell that has become his mind.
He is so far from my reach, I feel so helpless, so unable to help.
Or to answer any the nagging questions: Will he get back to being the Mr Xmas I loved? When, for crying out loud? And anyway, how often will these depressive episodes happen? Is this the life that I want?
Asaf Avidan (who happens to be a hugely talented, generous and good-looking -if slightly tormented, fellow)- Love it or leave