tears are bullshit but better in a swimming pool

Coming off your anti-depressant is no picnic. Or it’s a shit picnic, in a crap spot, with ants, and sand in your sandwiches (naturally), plus you left the cups at home. My skin feels like it’s got bugs crawling around inside it, hence the ants, and I’m bumping into shadows of myself. Two evenings ago suicidal thoughts crept it in but they were only sentences, not feelings, and I headed them off with logic. I know, me and logic. And then last night the tears started.

I’m not in love with crying. I will always try to cry later. I lie to my tears, tell them, now’s not the time, we’ll do it later. They stop, not knowing that later is a device that I have no intention of using.

Still, last night in the pool, tears came.

I floated on my back and looked up at the dark, star-ridden sky, and cried tears onto my already wet face. I couldn’t tell where tears stopped and the pool began.

At first I tried my usual, later, tears, later, but they weren’t buying so I let them do their thing. Tears from the medication, from kids that love each other to death, by that I mean, they were trying to kill each other, and tears from Libby’s five minutes a day.

Last night was a wonderful night for sky watching, the stars glimmered, shone, hung, and I picked one out and called it Libby.

That star and me, we had something. I mean, we were real. I cried at it, told it I missed it, told it that it was beautiful, and poked fun at myself for how redundant my beliefs can be. I don’t believe in Heaven, but I used to. I don’t reckon on an afterlife, but I could for a slow minute for a special someone.

I don’t believe Libby’s in the sky, but I did last night.

The water was warm, solar powered heating and it’d been a sunny day, and I floated, floated, and tilted my head back until just my mouth and nose were exposed. My ears under the water, I heard nothing but my breath. I wanted to stop crying, get on, but my tears told me, later, and then they laughed at me because finally they’d got their way.

I accepted the tears and leaked my feelings into the water.

Siblings fight and even playing, my boys sound like they’re going to eat each other, coming off anti-depressants is depressing, challenging, gross and a positive, getting better thing to do. Libby’s five minutes a day works. And the tears that you cry in the pool under the dark of a hot summer sky can bring peace and hope and the joy of being one star in a million.


star light, star bright, let’s pretend that’s

my sister that i see tonight

2 thoughts on “tears are bullshit but better in a swimming pool

  1. That’s very moving Nicki, keep your chin up, you know your boys love each other and love you but they are just learning at home how to fight the outside world. Take heart, lots of love.

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