Mollie and January

Mollie stood in the doorway until Mrs. Dalton saw her and called the Tigers to line up.. Six second graders quietly rowdy followed her out in line to play Addition Bingo and Math Jeopardy. They clustered around the table on the wet grass chattering about Wii for Christmas and ninja stars. The early winter California morning was misty and cold. Cappy said with the pleasure of possession, "It's really cold, but I have my furry jacket." She stuck out her arm to show her pink quilted sleeve with white fake fur at the wrist. Jackson replied, "Maybe it's gonna rain. Then we eat inside and play floor games . Miss Mollie has to play with us." Mollie thought the kids were wonderful, and she was lucky to have such a good job. Her hands were blue despite her Irish sweater. Miss Mollie worked six hours a day as a teacher's assistant at Fredrick Douglas elementary. In the morning, she played games and reviewed spelling with Mrs. Dalton's kids, and in the afternoon, she did whatever scut work they had in the office. She loved her job and had never taken a day off in six years.
That day, she left early for the first time, saying she didn't feel well and would be back in the morning. Dr. Morrisey told her to take care of herself. She woke up very early, had her coffee, and suddenly realized she could not go to work that day. She waited until 7:00, called the secretary and said she would be out again. The next day, she forced herself to get dressed and go to work. By 10:00, she was looking for excuses to leave. She did not feel sick, but she suddenly needed to go home and lie down. The next day, she called in sick. The day after that, she simply could not force herself to get dressed. It seemed she could hardly leave home, and she called in sick again. Finally, Mrs. Dalton complained to Dr. Morrisey that Mollie was not reliable, and she needed an aide who came to work. Mrs. Morrisey mentioned to Mollie that Mrs. Dalton was unhappy. Two weeks later, Mollie gave notice. They gave her a good bye party in the teachers' lounge after school. She said she was going to tutor or something. Maybe go back to school herself. Then she went home and lay down. She did not really get up again for two years. Her husband was pissed about the job.
Mollie's family did not know what was wrong. She had come out into the middle of the living room where her family was watching "Star Trek" and told her husband she could not stop crying. He said nothing very much. The children ignored her. She went back to bed. She woke up in the middle of the night, took out the pictures of her children as babies and cried. She cleaned up the kitchen at 2:00 in the morning. Allen woke up and asked her what she was doing, annoyed. She told him she couldn't sleep. Allen often had to make or provide dinner because she could not cook dinner at 2:00 in the morning, and she could not get out of bed at dinner time to cook. The kids rented movies and played them over and over again. Mollie could not ask them from the couch to please change the movie or someting. She came to hate Tom Cruise. She went and saw her doctor who told her she was depressed and would feel better in about two years. Mollie had never heard of antidepressants, strangely enough. She read Proust and Dickens and did not watch TV. Her doctor thought she should work through her problems, whatever they were, evidently on her own. Mollie thought of death. She considered suicide a valid life choice and thought it hardly mattered except it would give the children a bad example. Mollie thought about her new DH Lawrence book, but could barely walk across the room to pick it up, and she couldn't seem to read anything. "Harper's" and "The Atlantic" piled up. She saved them for when she could read again.
Mollie lost twenty pounds. She had a pain in her solar plexus that was both dull and almost unbearable at the same time, and although she was hungry, food made her nauseous. Suddenly, she didn't have any clothes. She was obsessed with her crammed, messy closets. Every day, she thought, "Tomorrow, I'll do that one." She did nearly nothing, but lie on the couch and smoke. Her husband went out with the kids, and they hardly bothered to say good bye. She was invisible and absolutely alone. The only relief she had was sleep. When she first woke up, she was fine for a second. Then the pain came and the realization. All she wanted to do was sleep. Finally, for no reason, lying on her couch smoking, she felt a little lift and thought, "Maybe I'll get better." A couple of days later, she cooked dinner. Within a month, she was sleeping through the night, and the pain came a little later after she woke and it was better. She read her Lawrence book. Two years. She got out of bed, did her housework. One day she decided to call around about a job.

This is a very brief description of one type of untreated clinical depression. It can be treated effectively with antidepressant medication. There are other types, but this is roughly what I have done more than once. People often have no idea what to do and are terrified to see someone they love deteriorate to this extent. Depression is the loneliest thing in the world, but I want to say that this is an illness. People can recover, and they can be helped. If your doctor doesn't help, find one who will.

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