Shadowed Soul

by John Spagnoli

  “One day, I hope to find the courage to make things right or at least make them a little better because I know it's too late to make everything right. When you come to my house I so want to open up but all I see in your eyes is strength and resolve and while that may be directed towards disliking or hating me I find it impossible to take that away from you. I so want to hug you and hold you and tell you how much I love you but I think, I worry if I do that then your strength will either dissolve or all harden and push me away. I am not a strong person, Thomas, I never have been because your grandfather left me with a terrible sense of self-loathing, I have never found anything about myself to like throughout my entire adult life apart from you and even with that I have sabotaged myself so much. Depression is a terrible thing to bear and I have done so for so very long and I am so tired of it all. It was these dark moods that chased your father away and it was this depression that pretty much made me stop you seeing him. That, and he had his own issues after the war. We tried once, I don't know if you remember, but once on Sunday after church we went to his new apartment. At first you were all excited when you saw the shiny, red door out front. But then, we got inside the entry way and you started screaming and shouting so much that I had to take you straight back to the bus and we came home. You never did want to see him for the next year or so and after that it became easier not to ask you. In truth, it was selfish motivations on my part that made me not ask you because I was terrified that if you met him and spent time with him that you would eventually drift away from my life and into his house. Every year he would send cards and gifts on your birthday and Christmas and every year I destroyed the gifts and put them out in the trash. God forgive me but I have done so many terrible things and even though I have known that they were wrong I have never really been able to stop myself. In the end, your father just gave up because I had managed to convince him that you wanted nothing to do with him, and as you grew older I swore to myself that I would tell you where he was but I could never find the strength. My fear of loneliness made me lonelier than I ever thought possible.

  “I think he’s still there in the same apartment. I haven't heard from him in a number of years but he would have let me know if he had moved just in case you ever wanted to speak to him. I'm not quite sure why but I always kept your father’s cards he sent for you, again my depression sometimes makes me do things that I have no real understanding of. To me it seemed that the gifts and toys were just plastic objects, plastic sheet as old Jake used to call them, remember? They were just junk that meant nothing but I could never bring myself to destroy anything your father had written in his own hand because that was a real connection, something tangible between him and you and even though I never gave you the cards I always knew they were there and maybe when I died that you would get to see them and find something like forgiveness for your father. He is not a bad man but he has his own flaws, war does terrible things to people, and in the end he was not strong enough to cope with my issues also. He always wanted you to go with him but I would never have allowed that because even though he never showed any sign of being like my father I simply never trusted men. I remember so well when I found that you had been looking at pornography, I was so angry and scared that maybe you would end up like your grandfather. It was a ridiculously insane idea because every young man is drawn to sex and I know that. But I have never been able to see sex as anything but filthy and wrong because my experiences as a little girl were a nightmare. When you left that night I truly understood that I had chased you away and I have never cried so many tears.

  “I know that this is all nothing more than words, and they won't mean an awful lot to you because I have never given you the chance to understand who I am. I have always loved you, Thomas, and always will. My biggest regret is the fact that I think, I know that I lost you so many years ago and now I'm missing everything about your life. I’m sorry about our Christmas visit ending badly. I do love your curious Christmas gift. I probably won't be placing them next to the windy day statue on the mantle, darling, but because they're from you, I shall cherish them forever. Most of all, I love you, Thomas.

  “My deepest love always,

  “Mom”

  “So that’s where the other robin’s egg blue box ended up,” I said aloud, in shock, not intending for Sophie to hear it.

  “What do you suppose the significance is of that, Thomas?” asked Sophie twizzling her pen.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  The letter resonated through me. I stopped counting how many times I reread the damned thing. My emotional responses had not been what I would have expected. Part of me wanted to hate her even more for denying me the existence of my father. Yet another part of me had never felt so much love for her. I only wished that she had somehow found the courage in her to tell me when she had been alive and to let me know that she had not hated me. I could understand her being screwed up. How could I do anything other than have empathy for her? But I had spent so long feeling lost from my biological family that now that I knew that my father had tried to keep in touch and that she had loved me I felt a strange mix of sadness and relief. I had not felt able to look at the bundle of cards that had lain smoldering inside the shoe box for decades. My father had been gone from my life for such a long time that the knowledge he might still be nearby was almost too much to comprehend. I might have passed him on the street or sat next to him on public transportation without knowing. I also had not looked at his return address on the birthday cards, but I knew, deep within my psyche, I knew exactly where he lived.

  The nightmare persisted. I found myself on the same street every night and I now knew exactly what the objects on either side of the hat wearing man were, even before he removed the sheets covering them I knew that on his right side was Sophie and on his left side was Beth, I knew that they were both bound and gagged and helpless to stop me or save me. I also knew what this imagery meant, or at least I thought I did.

  “So, what do you think that having me and your wife on either side of this individual means?” asked Sophie, not appearing the least bit discomfited.

  “Well, I think that you represent different parts of my brain,” I attempted. “I would assume that you represent the logical part of me and Beth represents the emotional side of me?” Sophie nodded for a moment.

  “Seems reasonable, as theories go.” She paused and looked at me for a moment. “Why do you think that we are both bound and gagged, Thomas? If we both represent a distinct part of your brain. Emotional. Logical.” I feared Sophie was about to eject me from her office and refuse to see me again.

  “I don’t think it’s sexual!” I replied hastily. “I mean, I know I was addicted to bondage pornography but it’s never been sexual. So you being tied up and helpless in my dream, it’s not, it’s not sexual!” I was genuinely comfortable in Sophie’s company and I felt I had made more progress with her than at any point of my life. I did not want to lose that.

  “I know it’s not sexual, Thomas,” said Sophie reassuringly. “There are no sexual overtones in the imagery that you’ve described. Both Beth and I are dressed in a non-provocative manner and we represent hostages not sexual conquests. I just wonder if you have any insight into why that might be.”

  “Well, this might sound dumb, Sophie…”

  “Risk it,” she said with a gentle smile.

  “I think that maybe the fact that you’re both kneeling and helpless sort of means that I feel that I’m helpless, emotionally helpless and intellectually helpless. I mean, it’s as though both of you could give me advice in the dream if you were able to but you can’t.” Sophie smiled and nodded at my self-analysis.

  “I think that might be the case, Thomas,” replied Sophie.

  “So, what do you think that advice would be?” I asked.

  “I’m not really the person who is tied up in your dream, Thomas. You are. I’m not even sure what the dream is about. I mean, this hat-wearing man who has kidnapped us. Who do you think he is?
Who might he represent?”

  “My father?” I asked.

  “Maybe...” Sophie nodded in a peculiarly non-committal way and I knew that she had seen through what was in fact a lie on my part.

  “Okay, he represents my Shadowed Soul,” I blurted. “And I suppose by default that he represents me, or at least my depression.”

  “That seems likely, Thomas. Why is your depression stopping you from listening to your own advice though? Or, in the imagery, gagging your logic and your emotions.”

  “Because he doesn’t want to go?”

  “Go where?” Sophie persisted.

  “Away? He doesn’t want me to beat him?” I looked at Sophie for a clue.

  “Do you want to beat him, Thomas?” she asked in a blunt tone and as I looked at her I saw a mild look of challenge in her eyes. It was not an unpleasant or particularly aggressive expression but there was an undeniable air of authority about her. “I don’t mean this in a bad way, Thomas, but do you maybe think that the length of time that you’ve been living with the depression has made it a familiar habit that is almost impossible to conceive living without?”

  “No, that’s not true,” I replied quickly without conviction. I had felt abandoned by my family and through the years many of my friends had drifted away. The Shadowed Soul had been the one constant that had followed me throughout my life. The prospect that one day he might truly leave me too was a frightening possibility. Without my depression who would I be? Would my personality be amputated? Sophie seemed to sense my confusion and she smiled easily and when she spoke again her voice was mellow and warm.

  “Do you want a harsh truth, Thomas?” I nodded and she sat forward, gazing into my soul. “The chances that you will ever be truly free of your depression are minimal. There are options that can be used to control it but the unfair truth is that it will always be there. However, that’s the harsh truth. The broader truth is your depression is only one aspect of you. You have many, many other aspects. And millions upon millions of people suffer from depression and with guidance and strength it is possible to dilute it to a point where it is not as debilitating.”

  She left this statement hanging for a moment, giving me the time to absorb something that I had always been aware of but had struggled to avoid accepting.

  “So, this is me forever, then?”

  “It is one part of many parts of you, Thomas. You, Thomas, you are a genuinely wonderful man, that is who you are forever,” she sat back again and smiled. “Depression does not mean an end to your life. It’s one part. It’s not going to be easy at times but with help you can get through it, you can dilute it, and you can flourish and thrive as an individual.”

  “Really?” I barked a harsh laugh at the thought. The sound was so brutal that Bailey moved as though he had been kicked. I gazed down at his gentle face as he looked at me with a mildly reproachful expression. I reached down and ruffled his ears a little and he wagged his tail in return.

  “Woody Allen, Christian Bale, Jon Bon Jovi, Buzz Aldren, Jim Carrey, Winston Churchill, Halle Berry, Harrison Ford, Ernest Hemingway, Isaac Newton, Degas, Vincent VanGogh, Peter Sellers, Walt Whitman, Uma Thurman, Abraham Lincoln! Thomas, all of these people are among the millions who have suffered from depression. Life can and does flourish if you give it a chance. If you can ever start seeing the Shadowed Soul as a companion that inspires you, gives you contrasts, rather than simply terrifies you then you can get beyond feeling trapped.” She paused and looked at me as if working out the next best move. “Tell me ten things that you love about your life.”

  “Bailey, Beth, her parents, my son,” I said immediately and I stopped.

  “Thomas, it’s not important that you think of them all at this moment but if you can think of ten things that you love about your life then those are the things that will get you through this. The trick is that you have to look at yourself and your life objectively and find the qualities that others admire or love about you and you start to get a balanced idea of who you are. I’m not someone who usually contributes to people’s lists but what I will say is that you have been articulate, honest and strong coming here. One might say intrepid.”

  Her words were freeing. I had already begun to focus on my list. I was determined that I would find a list of ten things that I liked about my life and about myself. Determination was already on that list; even after all these years I was still searching for a way to beat my depression and I had not been defeated.

  Bailey and I reached home. My mind raced over everything that had happened over the past few weeks, my mom’s death, my father’s persistence, today’s conversation with Sophie and the missing items on my list became apparent.

  1. My Family – without them I was adrift and as much as I needed them it was important to remember that they needed me.

  2. My Strength – I had grown up in an environment that had left me alone and I had survived that – in fact it had been more than survival, it had been growth.

  3. My Compassion – I had been able to show love to Beth and her parents, I knew that some people who were stunted emotionally could not show anything resembling true love to those around them but I could and did. I knew that my attitude toward my son had been unusual and not ideal but with the strength that I had I would be able to change that.

  4. My Empathy – While this might be similar to compassion it was still separate enough that I could understand how people were feeling and if I was well enough I could also sense how that was affecting them.

  5. My Intelligence – I was not dumb, not by a long shot – I had always been smart about the things that mattered, I had enjoyed education – so much so that I had always striven to enhance and expand upon the education that I had.

  6. My Creativity – I was able to express myself through my poetry and on occasion through my art, this was something that I often let fall by the wayside when I was unwell but if I identified this as a strength then I would be able to somehow ensure that the creative side of me did not atrophy.

  The strong benefit of having written this list became clearer the longer I focused on it. It gave me a defined pathway that ultimately could dilute the attacks of the Shadowed Soul.

  While Sophie had confirmed my suspicions that the depression would never fully leave me, the news came from a person whom I had grown to trust and therefore had been a terrible blow. I had left her office feeling as though the weight of the world had been dumped directly onto my shoulders and the journey home had been difficult. I had been struck by a desire to go to the address that featured so prominently in my dreams and knock on the door. However, after we got off the bus, Bailey and I had stood staring at the door for what seemed like an eternity, both terrified and desperate for a man I suspected was my father to open the door. Of course life was not a television soap opera and there were no signs of movement from inside the house. Eventually I turned, relieved and dejected in equal measure and made my way back to my apartment.

  Bailey was unsettled; I was not sure why. I had thought about calling Beth but had decided against it. Her parents were upstate for a few days, celebrating their anniversary by spending two nights at the B&B in which they had honeymooned. Beth would probably be relishing time with the baby without them fussing over her. Although she had invited me over I had declined; I wanted her to have a peaceful time, as peaceful a time as having a baby in the house would allow. I planned to stay with them tomorrow but always felt some degree of emotional and intellectual turmoil after I had visited Sophie and wanted to center myself as much as possible before I descended into Beth’s world again. I was looking forward to being with my wife but wanted it to be on a level that we would both appreciate and enjoy.

  As I sat at the table I gazed at Bailey, he was seated and looking at me with anxious eyes and occasionally letting out a soft moan. I had known Bailey for so long that I knew when he was unsettled. His nose was cold and wet and he had eaten his food normally. Tonight he seemed to be physically fine, but emotionall
y on edge. I tried to bring him out of his mood but even his chew bone was useless. I was worried about him.

  As he seemed so unhappy I broke Beth’s long-standing rule and invited him into my bedroom. As soon as I was settled in bed I patted the top of the mattress and he gratefully jumped up and nestled his body against the side of my legs.

  “Goodnight, buddy, we’re seeing Beth tomorrow,” I said softly and as I closed my eyes I heard him sigh and give one little whine and shift his weight repeatedly. “Go to sleep, Bailey!” Visits with Sophie always exhausted me and as I was drawn into the dark comfort of sleep, I could hear the far off rumble of thunder that rolled across the horizon outside the edge of the city.