Finding Home

Chapter 10: The demons inside

Isabel and Lorenzo were still lying in bed, wrapped in each other's arms, their bodies exhausted from their passionate lovemaking. Isabel looked content, her eyes closed as she savored the warmth of Lorenzo's embrace. She felt safe in his arms, protected from the dark thoughts that had been haunting her.

Lorenzo looked down at her, his eyes filled with tenderness. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" he said softly.

Isabel opened her eyes and looked up at him, a hint of sadness in her gaze. "I know, and I appreciate it," she replied. "It's just that, sometimes, it's hard to put into words what I'm feeling."

"I've been struggling with what I think is depression for a while now," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "I have never been diagnosed by a professional but I'm scared that it will consume me entirely again. I don't know what to do, and I feel so lost."

Lorenzo's heart sank as he heard the pain in her voice. He knew how difficult it was for her to admit that, and after spending so much time with her, how hard it was to believe, but hearing Isabel's words made it all the more real. He waited for her to continue.

"It's hard," she said, tears starting to form in her eyes. "Sometimes it feels like no one understands, like I'm trapped in my own head. And then I start to feel guilty for feeling this way, like I'm weak or broken."

"You're not weak, Isabel," Lorenzo said firmly, holding her face in his hands so she could look him in the eyes. "Depression and anxiety are not weaknesses. They're illnesses, just like any other. And just like any other illness, they need to be treated."

Isabel nodded, her tears falling freely now. "I know, but it's hard to admit that I need help. It's hard to let go of the stigma surrounding mental health."

Lorenzo stroked her hair gently. "I understand, Isabel. But getting help doesn't make you weak. It makes you strong. It takes courage to admit that you need help and to seek it out.''

Isabel buried her face in his chest, her sobs wracking her body. Lorenzo held her tightly, letting her cry out. He knew that this was just the beginning of a long journey, but he was willing to be there for her every step of the way. Together, they would fight against the darkness and find the light at the end of the tunnel.

Isabel took a deep breath, trying to gather the courage to share with Lorenzo what had been haunting her for years. "I've always felt inadequate, like I wasn't enough for anyone. I grew up feeling like I didn't matter to my family, that they didn't really care about me."

Lorenzo listened attentively, sensing the weight of her words. "I'm sorry that you had to go through that, Isabel," he said, his voice gentle and soothing.

"It wasn't just that," Isabel continued, her eyes filling with tears. "It was the constant feeling of being unwanted, unloved, and alone. I remember feeling like I was drowning in my own thoughts, and I didn't know how to get out."

Lorenzo held her hand, silently offering his support. Isabel appreciated his presence, knowing that he was there for her. "It's like there's this dark cloud that follows me everywhere I go," she continued. "It's always there, hovering over me, reminding me that I'm not good enough, that I'll never be enough."

Lorenzo's heart ached as he watched her struggle with her thoughts. He wished he could take away her pain, but he knew that it wasn't something he could fix. "Isabel, you are enough," he said, his voice firm and resolute. "You are more than enough. You are a beautiful, intelligent, and kind person, and you deserve love and happiness."

Isabel shook her head, unable to believe his words. "I don't know, Lorenzo. It's hard to see myself that way when I've spent so many years feeling like I'm not enough."

"How long have you felt this way?" Lorenzo asked.

''I don't know exactly when it started but I was 12 when I realized it was a constant, when I realized I was different from others my age, when I came around to thinking that I did not fit in.'' replied Isabel with a distant look like she was remembering those times.

Lorenzo squeezed her hand, trying to bring her back to the moment. He was shocked once again to think she had been feeling miserable for at least 8 years, but knowing that this moment right here where she actually vented about everything was important in her journey moving forward. ''I am sure your family has loved you Isabel, maybe not, what you wanted, but I'm sure they cared enough''.

Isabel stared at the window and gave a long pause in the conversation, thinking about his words.

Lorenzo sat quietly waiting, this was her show her time.

Isabel began to speak, her voice trembling slightly. "My mother was never really there for me," she said, her eyes downcast. "She missed so many Mother's Days at school it became a joke. I mean the worse part was that she would always tell me she would come, and I believed her. For so many years I believed her, but something would happen and an excuse would be given by Mom. With time, I lost hope of a relationship. My granny would always say, no matter what, she is still your mom, but I would hear them arguing every other time on the phone and granny shouting at her to make an appearance or at least call, but whenever she was with me, it was always because someone else had asked her to be there. Or believe it because this is the worst part, but she would be paid to see me. Not like a job, but she would say she did not have money to come see me or take me to do something nice, so granny would pay for transportation and leave money for us to go to the cinema or to eat something, but she would spend hours with me at home using cable and the telephone and leave with the money after. It was not much, but after some time I started to see what it really was and decided that no one deserves this type of ''love''."

Lorenzo arched one of his eyebrows, thinking this was not love at all, but he did not want to add to her suffering.

Isabel's eyes burned with intensity as she gazed at Lorenzo, misinterpreting his look. She could feel the frustration and hurt bubbling up inside of her as she tried to explain the depths of her pain. "It's transactional love," she began, her voice shaking with emotion. "It's the type of love that makes you feel like you're only valuable when you're giving something to someone else. It's a fake love that's based on conditions and expectations. It's when my own mother only bothered to show up when someone else was footing the bill or when she needed something from me. It's the type of love that makes you feel like you're just a means to an end. And it's not real love."

Isabel paused for a moment, reflecting on her own experiences. "It's a sad way to live," she continued. "To always feel like you have to do something for someone else to earn their love or attention. It's not a healthy way to form relationships, and it can leave you feeling used and empty inside. Real love should be unconditional, given freely without any expectation of anything in return. It's about valuing the person for who they are, not what they can do for you.''

Lorenzo reached out and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

Isabel continued. "My dad was always focused on money. He married my mom young and probably only because she was pregnant. They don't really talk about it, but I have always gathered as much from the comments here and there. Obviously, mom did not stick around and he brought me to live with granny when I was five. He remarried a few years after that and his visits became more spaced, until my stepmother became pregnant. Around this time, I stopped seeing them altogether. For months I would only see my father if he was close by and popped in to see granny. My father is an amazing guy, very honest and very brave, but he loved to live for appearances. I remember once I won a writing prize and he threw me a party and put the trophy on a shelf. This is the guy that never once gave me a birthday party, mind you, so I gave my max to make him proud because only when I was doing my best it seemed that I mattered to him. This caused me a lot of stress and, eventually, self-doubt. In the end, he thought that being able to pay for a good education would make up for the lack of love in our family. But it didn't. I always felt like I was on my own because I realized by watching him with my siblings that it was not a lack of love in our family, it was just me." she sighed and closed her eyes as tears started to come.

Isabel's voice trembled with emotion as she spoke once again. "My stepmother," she said, her words choked with tears. "I don't know if she's a bad person or not, but she's never allowed me to get close to her. She only cares about her own kids. Sometimes I feel like she's jealous of the fact that I'm my father's first daughter, or maybe I'm just being paranoid. But something doesn't add up. She never talks to me for more than a few minutes, never shows any interest in my life or my accomplishments. And she always makes these petty little comments, like 'you should smile more, Isabel' or 'you'll never find a husband with that grumpy face.' It's infuriating, but at the same time, it's so pathetic that I can't even be bothered to care. And my siblings...they're so self-centered, they don't even notice when I'm struggling. To be honest, I don't think they even realize when I'm at their house for family dinners or celebrations." Isabel let out a bitter chuckle, the pain evident on her face.

Lorenzo listened attentively, his eyes fixed on Isabel. "And what about your grandmother?" he asked gently.

Isabel's lips curled into a sad smile as she spoke, her eyes distant as memories of her late grandmother flooded her mind. "She was an amazing woman, but also so... unique," Isabel began, her voice tinged with a mix of affection and amusement. "She believed in all sorts of things, like aliens and energy crystals. Her living room was adorned with a massive representation of Mother Earth, which she insisted was the most important thing in the world. And she had so many plants, all of which she talked to every single day."

Isabel paused, taking a deep breath as she continued. "She never got married again, you know. She stopped believing in the institution of marriage and would always tell me that my strength didn't come from having a man by my side, but from becoming one with nature. She was always so positive and optimistic, but she never really knew how to talk to me or offer me practical advice."

Isabel let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head at the memories. "When I first got my period, she made me do this weird ritual where I had to give my blood back to the earth. She would go on about how it was some kind of sacred act that connected us with our original mother, womb to womb." Isabel paused, a wistful look on her face. "But despite all her quirks and eccentricities, she loved me in her own way. As a child, I genuinely believed that holding energy crystals could cure any sadness or fear. She was always there for me, even if she couldn't offer me conventional comfort or advice."

Isabel's eyes welled up with tears as she spoke the last words. "And when she passed away last year, I lost my rock, my foundation, my lifeline."

''Feeling sad or anxious often or all the time is something that I have experienced since she passed away. It's not just a passing feeling of sadness, it's a constant weight that sits on your chest and makes it hard to breathe. It's like a cloud that follows you everywhere you go, making it hard to see the good things in life.''

''Not wanting to do activities that used to be fun is something that has happened to me many times. I used to love going out with my friends, dancing, singing, and just having a good time. But when you're navigating the darkness inside yourself, even the things that used to bring you joy can feel like a burden.''

''Sometimes I have trouble concentrating, remembering details, or making decisions. This is something that I struggle with constantly. It's like my brain is foggy, and I can't seem to think clearly.'' She paused.

''All of that, in addition to feeling guilty, worthless, or helpless, is something that has plagued me for years. It's like no matter what I do, I can never shake the feeling that I'm not good enough. That I'm a burden to those around me.''

Lorenzo took a deep breath, his eyes full of empathy. "Isabel, I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that," he said, his voice low and soothing. "But you're not alone anymore. You have me, and I'm here for you. And if you ever need it, there's always professional help. It's not a weakness to ask for help, it's a strength."

Lorenzo tightened his embrace around her. "I understand," he said. "But you don't have to go through this alone. I'm here for you, always."

Isabel sighed and snuggled closer to him. "I know, and I'm grateful for that. But sometimes, it feels like nobody can understand what I'm going through. I feel like I'm drowning in my own thoughts."

Lorenzo ran his fingers through her hair, soothing her. "Have you considered seeing a therapist?" he asked gently. "It might help you to talk to someone who is trained to deal with these things."

Isabel tensed slightly at the suggestion. "I don't know," she said hesitantly. "It feels like admitting weakness, like I can't handle my own problems."

Lorenzo looked at her seriously. "That's not true, Isabel. Seeking help when you need it is a sign of strength, not weakness. And there's nothing wrong with wanting to take care of yourself."

Isabel was silent for a moment, considering his words. Finally, she spoke. "Maybe you're right. It's just hard to admit that I need help."

Lorenzo smiled encouragingly at her. "It's okay. We all need help sometimes. And I'll be here every step of the way, supporting you."

Isabel smiled back, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. "Thank you, Lorenzo. I'm so glad I have you."

Lorenzo leaned in and kissed her forehead. "I'm glad too," he said softly. "Now, let's get some rest. We have a lot of time to make up for."