Catatonia. Dissociation. Abandon.

[KeiaTypeBeat 3277]

 

Spoiler

Themes of mental health, moral failings, parental abandonment are present throughout this text. View discretion is advised.

 

"Mom?"

"Miss!"

"Is she okay?"

 

"...need to get inside, Mother.."

"...go?"

"It'll be...she just…."

"... inside… please…"

"Mom? Can you hear m…"

"Mom?"

 

I'm going to be a mother!

It would make me so happy if my daughter could call you abuela, Miss Vivian!

The world needs more people like you in it.

We need to have tea sometime.

I know you're going to make a wonderful mother!

The invitation for tea is still open!

Stop by anytime for tea, we would love to have you!

We still haven't had tea yet!

 

I love you, Vivian.

 

I had to do it, Mother!

She was dangerous!

I had to do it, Mother!

She was dangerous!

She was dangerous!

She was dangerous!

She was dangerous!

 

Isa's dead, Mom

 

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. The denizens of hell knoweth no misery like a mother in mourning.

 

          Vivian Vincrute lay motionless in her bed. Her chest rose mere centimeters with each shallow, unwanted breath she took. Her eyes, typically a vibrant shade of green, were dim, muted by dry, red sclera. No longer did they serve as windows to her passionate, loving, ever-positive soul. Now, Vivian's eyes shared only the bottomless sorrow of catatonic depression.

          Those near lifeless eyes stared at the brown, wooden paneling of her and her husband's bedroom ceiling. By now, Vivian had every detail of that ceiling committed to memory. At least, what lay directly above her bed, as she hadn't even the energy to shift so much as her gaze since learning of Isabella's death. 

          It had been months. Months since her son, Solomon, carried her into her bed. Months of her family rotating in shifts to ensure their matriarch ate, drank. Months of her doting husband, Mae'ralin, doing everything in his power to pull his world out of her stupor. To no avail.

 

 

Spoiler

          Now, let it be said: everyone grieves in their own way. There is hardly a proper way to mourn the early death of a woman you watched grow before your very eyes. Most would likely suffer tremendously in the same context. Most would grieve, then stop grieving. For them, existential loss gives way to solemn acceptance. Sure, the pain may never truly heal, and the hole left by the loss of a loved one is rarely ever completely filled, but the misery should cease. Eventually. For most people.  

            Vivian was not most people.

          Most people aren't locked in their father's home for their first five decades. Most people aren't forced to spend those decades cleaning and taking care of a home they never once had felt love within. Most critically, most people aren't of Vincrute lineage. 

          Vivian was of Vincrute lineage. She was the granddaughter of Vas Umbra-Vincrute. So, being an Umbra-Vincrute, she had the generational baggage of an Umbra-Vincrute: a genetic predisposition to severe and profound psychological illness. Or, at least, something analogous to such. 

          Vivian did not maintain her hopeful, boundless positivity because her life was absent of pain. Vivian maintained her optimism despite spending most of her life surrounded by pain, ignorant of love. 

          Still, it could not be said that she alone willed forth her abundant love and endless affection. No. When she first left her father's manor, Vivian was as cold, aggressive, and snappy as any other injured animal. Despite this, those around her did not lash out in kind. Instead, she was truly blessed to, again and again, meet people who expressed tolerance and patience with her; these concepts were then unknown to Vivian. 

          With enough love, time, and exposure, Vivian's worst post-traumatic symptoms were eased and, eventually, manageable. That was how Vivian became the shining beacon of joy that people today know her to be. With love, time, and exposure. 

          So why, in the presence of everything she never had or knew she needed, did she become so profoundly overtaken by the misery lying dormant within mind? Why didn't her trauma response stay manageable? Why wasn't her PTSD cured? 

          Because that isn't how any of this works. Like a parasite on her soul, Vivian's condition would always be intimately attached to her. Her potential for overwhelming love and joy was equally matched by her potential for overpowering pain and sadness.  

          For so long, she refused to balance  her positive emotions, allowing them to overwhelm and stupify her at a moment's notice. Now that she was confronted with hardship, her coping skills proved to be diluted. She could not redirect, reframe, recontextualize her trauma. She was inevitably defenseless when that parasitic trauma response of hers finally resurfaced. 

 

 

          Eventually, Vivian did manage to begin leaving her bed again. She forced herself to eat at the dinner table with her family. It killed her a bit, for them to see her like this. But even she, thanks to the support system around her, understood she needed to move on. She hoped faking it would eventually give way to making it. 

          So, Vivian left her house for the first time in months. She kept her gaze away from the now terrible bridge she received that dreadful news on. She breathed in fresh air. She left the cave of Wynlomere, and she touched the grass, and she felt numb. Not joy, not pain: numbness. An improvement. Maybe. That blissfully miserable numbness did not last long. 

 

Spoiler

          Vivian did not have many friends, nor had she been employed in servantry since the birth of her latest child, Lysander, now 16. She had utterly dedicated herself to taking care of her own home and family, and not the families of others. This made her happy; giving her children the love and care she did not have herself when she was a little girl was all she focused on. She was content, and being an adored wife was itself a boon to her mental condition. 

          So, when Lys began to grow more independent in her early teens, Vivian began to grow bored, wary, and lonely. Unsatisfied. People are meant to be people: fleshed out, with hobbies and friends. People are not meant to just be wives, and they are not meant to just be mothers. They are meant to be people. With aspirations. Vivian had none of these. 

          That was, until she met Revekka. Revekka was a woman who, much like Vivian, had an endless amount of love to give to the world. And, just like Vivian, this was in spite of living a painful, traumatic life devoid of the love she so readily expressed to the underprivileged. 

          Unlike Vivian, Revekka did have ambition and dreams. With her aspirations, Revekka opened an orphanage in Wynlomere. After the Avalons relocated to that cavern city, Revekka eventually gave Vivian an opportunity to interview for a position at the orphanage. 

          The women hit it off immediately. They exchanged their stories, traded hurts, and bonded over mutual paternal traumas. They shared a resolve to give the world the kindness they went so long without. 

          Vivian felt seen in a way she never had before. For the first time, Vivian was making a like minded friend who stood a chance to understand her in ways even her husband could not. All by herself, no less!           

Vivian felt seen in a way she never had before!

 

 

          When Vivian finally came home after her walk, her mind was clear enough for her to think about Revekka. Perhaps she could offer respite in Vivian's time of wahpahthee?

          KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

         Vivian's knuckles rapped against the orphanage's door. She stood idle, and she began to feel a glimmer of hope begin to surface within her chest. She missed Revekka, truthfully. 

          KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

          Gone were the thoughts of Isabella, replaced with the hope Revekka would show Vivian she was still seen and understood. It was only Revekka, after all, who had shown Vivi someone was capable of hope as profound as her own. She wanted some of Revekka's hope. Perhaps it would feel, somehow, like a piece of Revekka would follow that hope and remain with Vivian should she manage to properly care for it. Maintain it. 

          KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

          …No answer. 

          Vivian sighed. Disappointed, she stepped away from the door, and, as she turned away from it, she cast her gaze to that dreadful bridge. 

 

I had to do it, Mother!

 

          Vivian recoiled as the voice of her son rang through her head. 

 

 

Spoiler

          Vivian met Isabella not long after the Mali'ame'ker and her family moved from Kurai-Kuni to Viru. It was there where Vivian and her son, who was Isa's age, met the "Young Lady Salazar," as Vivi insisted on addressing her. The human noble couldn't have been older than nine. 

          As Vivian raised Solomon, she watched Isabella grow alongside him. When Solomon fell in love with a Neia Whitewood, whom Vivian so uncharacteristically loathed, she wished it had been Isabella who caught Solomon's eye. When Solomon left Neia for Isabella, Vivian cried actual tears of joy. When Solomon left Isabella for Neia again, Vivian had her first panic attack in years. Parents really shouldn't be so invested in their kids' romantic lives…

          Despite the drama, Isabella still asked Vivian to be her daughter's godmother. Solomon did nothing to hamper his mother's relationship with Isabella.

          Until he killed her. 

 

She was dangerous!

 

          Vivian ripped her gaze away from the bridge. 

Ba-dump Ba-dump Ba-dump

          Vivian rushed to the front door of her home. 

Badump Badump Badump 

          Gasping, the mali'ame lurched for her mailbox, holding on to it. Her fingers clutched at the bin as she found purchase. She closed her eyes tightly, refusing to pay that damned bridge any attention. She opened the mailbox, eager for a distraction. In it was a letter. 

BadumpBadumpBadumpBadump

          Vivian read the letter. 

BaBaDumpBaBaDumpBaBaDumpBaBaDumpBaBaDumpBaBaDumpBaBaDumpBaBaDumpBaBaDumpBaBaDumpBaBaDumpBaBaDumpBaBaDumpBaBaDumpBaBaDumpBaBaDumpBaBaDumpBaBaDUMPBABADUMP

Spoiler

          Dear Vivian,

If you are reading this, it means that I have passed away. I wanted to thank you for everything you've done as a volunteer at Daffodil. But most importantly, for being an amazing person and neighbor for the brief time we knew one another. You're a gentle soul and I'm happy to have met you.

 

In my will, I stated that I would like you to take over Daffodil, if you wish. I am leaving what funds I have left to pay taxes for a few years to keep it open. If you wish to I can see no one else continuing  the good work here like you.

 

Don't ever change. Thank you again, for everything.

 

May you be well,

Revekka Orison

 

 

Spoiler

          Living with any degree of mental illness is a constant struggle. It is a struggle to maintain a mindset of balance, control, and acceptance. Especially in the face of the natural setbacks bound to arise. This was Vivian's latest setback.

 

 

          The Vincrute clutched the paper in her fingers as her hands began to tremble. Blots of stains formed on the paper where her tears fell. Her digits dug into the  letter as though afraid to let go. 

Shrp

          Her fingers ripped through the page. Her legs gave way, and she fell to her right, against the door to her home. Her family's home. 

Shrrrrp

          More of the page ripped as she slid down the door.

ShrrrrrrRRRIP

          The letter was in two. As was the woman now sobbing against her door. 

          Vivian dropped the halves of the letter, then dug her fingers against her skull. Tangling her digits within her hair, the wounded mother began shaking her head back and forth. Her eyes shut tightly, as though blinded by the deadlights. 

          She wanted to scream. Her mouth opened, but Vivian's jaw could only clamp open and shut. No longer did the steady hum of her breath leave her throat. Now, a choked, gacking gurgle only escaped as she retched with an empty stomach. She clawed at her chest, then her slender fingers wrapped around her throat and squeezed tightly, forcing the sounds to stop. The brown skin of her tear stained cheeks had gone from a pale, ghostly hue to a dull shade of blue. Then, she let go, and she sucked in a loud, wet gasp. 

          Vivian's grassy eyes peeled open, and she felt the impact of her left side hitting the ground. Staring blankly ahead, the 'ame in mourning curled in on herself. Her mouth continued to jerk as her jaw quivered, lips writhing as she tried to speak. The words that managed to escape were carried by a voice so dull, it could weaken the sharpest of steel. She was so tired.

          "Revekka…" 

          "no…" 

          "I can't- I can't..."          

 

 

          Vivian stood, alone, in the Daffodil Orphanage. She fell into her routine. She swept floors until they were free of dust, then she'd sweep them again. Her hands gripped the broom handle in her hands. Her fingers tightened around the wooden shaft, then she leaned its tip against her forehead. She pressed it against her skull until the pressure caused her pain. Then she shook her head against it. 

          The Mali'ame'ker wanted to cry, but she had run out of tears long ago. She wanted to scream, but her voice was hoarse and faint. She wanted to hurt, but nothing she could do to herself would drown out the fissure forming within her heart. She understood that much. 

          The orphanage reminded Vivian of the sister fate forbade her from having. The bridge outside, once a landmark she had connotations of re:birth and hope with, now served as a reminder that triggered flashbacks calling back to the news of Isabella's death. And, within her own home, was Isa's killer. 

          "I will always have the love for you. Commit the greatest of the evil if you wish! Come home to me, nevertheless."

          "I am your Mother. You are the most precious of the gifts. Nothing can do the soiling of you in my eyes."

          "Only with love can the cruelty of our hearts be suppressed! And there is no love, like the love of the mother, I have for you."

She was dangerous!

She was dangerous!

She was dangerous!

She was dangerous!

She was dangerous!

 

          "He is dangerous."

          Vivian shook her head back and forth. "No.. I musn't think such things." Monotony dominated her tone.

          "You know the truth."

          Vivian yelled. "Patience is the virtue!"

          "A virtue he lacks."

          Vivian thrashed her head from side to side, closing her eyes. 

          "You are dangerous."

          Vivian winced.

          "Love saved you."

          Vivian opened her eyes as she stared blankly ahead

          "Love could have saved Isabella."

          "Violence wasn't the answer.."

          "Violence is the answer he chose to make."

          Vivian began to gag on her words. 

          "You cannot look at him the same. With your love withheld, he is damned to repetition. He will see your disappointment. He will channel it into rage. Violence. Hate. The sins of your father have passed onto He." 

          "I will love him harder."

          "And you will reward his violence and offer no reason for him to change. You will create the monster you fear."

          "I.."

          "You are weak. You would rather him kill you than risk hurting him in defense. What will become of your family, then?"

          Silence. 

           "You made the choice of peace. Solomon did not. Lys still can."

          "I.. I don't know what to do.."

          "I do."

          "Please.."

 

https://youtu.be/P_kyCU0gwfA?list=RDP_kyCU0gwfA

 

          It was the dead of the night when Vivian wandered about her room in the Avalon home. Her posture was straight and her movements considerate as she packed belonging after belonging away. Vacant was the light of her eyes, and absent was the energy she so regularly expelled from every fiber of her being. 

          Vivian took the luggage she packed with her when she left the room. She didn't hesitate at all as her footsteps carried her to another bedroom. 

          She opened the door to Lys Vincrute's room. There, the last remnant of innocence in her family lay curled in a ball, sleeping atop her bed. Her eyes glimmered as Mother admired Child, and a soft smile stretched across her lips. She moved to Lys bed and sat at its ledge. Unblinking as she stared, Vivian gently stroked Lys' bark brown hair. 

          Vivian subtly slouched. Her smile faded, and the corners of her lips began to quiver. Then, the light faded from her eyes, and she was steeled. Her back straightened, and her lips thinned to a neutral line. 

          "Lys. Ome'ii," a dry, monotonous voice droned. "I need you to wake up."

          "We are going on a trip. Haelun and Maln will be spending time away from each other. It is for the best. For everyone."

          "Pack your things."

          "Haelun has you. Haelun will make everything okay."

          "Haelun loves you, so very much"

 

         Vivian Vincrute carried the somber Lys Vincrute in her arms as they left the gates of Wynlomere. At her side was the diminutive sorvian newt, Icarus. It whistled with little sense, if any, as it pulled the small cart carrying their luggage. 

 

         Left behind, on the inside door of the Avalon family home, was a letter. 

 

 

Spoiler

This was all I could do

VV

Afterword

Spoiler

I've been touch and go at this for the last week. Thank you to @Amesti and @SpicyBats0(hope that's the right forum act) for the wonderful characters mentioned in this text. I came to care a lot about them, as did my character. It was only fitting for them to have the effect on Vivian they did. 

 

That being said, I do want to make it clear: this post is not meant to be read in a way that leaves the reader assuming Vivian's mental health excuses the decision she made. It does not. My attempt to give a dramatized yet reasonable voice to the nature of living with mental illness and the struggles therein do not bear relevance on Vivian's moral failing as a parent. 

Living with mental illness is a challenge many people, on this server even, have to accept as apart of life. Humans are humans and are capable of making the wrong choice with or without the presence of underlying conditions. The presence of those conditions do not excuse the actions we take under duress, pressure, or in times of crisis.

 

We are responsible for the decisions we make and how our decisions affect those around us. Vivian is committing a moral failing by abandoning her family. She is making the choice to flee from her problems rather than confront them. This is a character flaw that, while inflammed by her mental health, exists separate from it. 

 

Further Reading

Is Mental Illness to Blame for Abuse?

Mental Illness Isn’t an Excuse for Problematic Behavior

Mental Illness Is Not An Excuse: Your Behavior Towards Others Is Still Your Responsibility

“Unpacking the Issue: Why Using Mental Health as an Excuse for Bad Behaviour is Detrimental”

 

[SpicyBats0 97]

Upon the road outside of the Vassal of Wynlomere, 'neath the bowing peaks of the pines above, a doe steps onto the path before Vivian, Lys and Icarus.

She stands across it a moment, turning her head to meet Vivian's eyes. Black, but not hollow. A reflection of the three warped and dim within them.

Her ears turn in opposite directions before pointing forward at them. Listening to the sounds of the environment around them. She approaches just a few steps closer, stopping a few feet short of where they stand.

Her head lowers, her eyes shut, and she stands still in a bow.

When her head lifts again, a second passes where something familiar hangs over her presence. A bit of comfort. A quiet I understand. 

The doe turns and leaves. Walking straight into the trees before disappearing.