No Experience Required

by Kimberly Cooper Griffin

  The darkness of the thought overpowered Izzy for a moment. The inky darkness of complete and utter despair almost paralyzed her. She struggled away from it. It wasn’t hers. It wasn’t in her. It was a memory. Old and distant, but it was still there, still as powerful at it had been when she had wrestled it all those years ago. She didn’t believe it any more. But Haley didn’t know, couldn’t see it. Not yet.

  “I know you might think it. I know it feels real to you. But trust me, it’s not true. None of us would be better off without you. We are better because of you. We love you.”

  Izzy dragged her chair around the table and wrapped Haley in her arms. Haley went limp and leaned into Izzy’s embrace. A thousand memories of holding this precious child in her arms filled Izzy with a love unshakable and huge. No one, no thing was going to hurt this girl!

  Haley’s body shook. Warm tears soaked through Izzy’s shirt, but she held on to Haley until the shaking subsided and the sobbing stopped.

  The young cashier behind the counter came over and quietly left a napkin dispenser on the table. She cleared the glob of melted ice cream and soggy cones and left to wait on a new set of customers. Izzy pulled several napkins from the dispenser in the middle of the table and offered them to Haley, who blew her nose and wiped her eyes without escaping from Izzy’s arms. A long sigh warmed the wet material on Izzy’s chest.

  “I got snot and tears all over you.” Haley rubbed the wet material. “People are staring.”

  Izzy smoothed Haley’s hair and kissed the top of her head. “We don’t know them, and worse things have been on this shirt. I have two cats and a dog, remember?”

  A muffled, half-hearted laugh rose, followed by a tremulous sigh.

  “I need help, Aunt Iz. I think I need someone to fix me.”

  Izzy leaned back and looked into Haley’s eyes. “I’d like to take you to a doctor. Will you let me?”

  This was the tightrope her mother talked about, the one she’d said she’d walked with Izzy. No pushing, no convincing, no discussion. When a person was in an episode, logic did not exist, and ideas were fleeting. Emotions ruled every decision and rolled around on an erratic tide, changing for no apparent reason. The idea had to be her own; otherwise, Haley was likely to push back or change her mind, and they might not have another chance to change it.

  Haley blew her nose again. “I know as much as any doctor. In fact, I know more, since it’s my mind we’re talking about here. I’m smart enough to tell them what they want to know to get them off my back. I’m not sure a doctor can help.”

  Izzy resisted the urge to argue. She understood the futility of using logic against a person with bipolar illness and the delusion of being all-powerful, all-knowing. “Talking might help, though.”

  “I’ve been fooling my ob-gyn all this time, haven’t I?”

  “You have?”

  Haley sat up and took a deep breath. “Sure. She ‘checks in’ on me to see if I’m doing okay. If we’re doing okay. I just talk about Simone, say the things she wants to hear. She has no idea of the other things I’m thinking, what I’m capable of. I have her completely fooled.”

  Again, the allusion to her doing something drastic. Had she been fooling her, too? A hard pit was expanding in Izzy’s stomach. “I guess you can continue fooling your doctor, but if you want help, you might consider being open about what’s going on with you. It might be helpful.”

  Haley raised her hands and then flopped them down again. “What if there’s no way to fix this, Aunt Iz? What if I’m just a terrible person?”

  “You aren’t a terrible person.” She struggled to get through to her. “You know how I have to take medicine to even things out? And how I have to go to a therapist to check in?”

  Haley rolled her eyes. “No offense, Aunt Iz, but this is worse. You’ve never been like this.”

  Oh, if only she knew. But right now was about Haley. She needed to know there was hope. “Oh, honey. It’s not a competition. You just haven’t seen it. My medicine keeps me on track.”

  “You’re bipolar, right? Is that what this is?” Haley asked.

  She had a pretty good idea, but she knew enough to get a doctor’s diagnosis before asserting anything. “I honestly don’t know. But I do know you don’t have to feel like this.”

  Haley crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair. “I don’t know how I can’t feel like this. I’ve always felt like this, but I never showed it. I just don’t know how not to show it now. Maybe it’s the hormones.”

  The sense of certainty of uncertain things came back to Izzy, and she hated it. The false sense of knowing for sure something was the way it was, the claustrophobic closeness of all of it rushing back to her all these years later. She couldn’t be in Haley’s mind; she didn’t want to. But she had to help her. Hope was the strongest thing she had right now. “Our minds are frighteningly powerful things. But trust me, if you work with a therapist, you’ll figure out how to control it.”

  Izzy had. Mostly.

  * * *

  Over time, everything, even new love, loses its shine when it becomes familiar. It doesn’t mean it’s not awesome. It just means euphoria can last only so long before it starts to become just a normal part of your life.

  Some people simply ease into the next chapter of their relationship without a pause. They like the predictability of knowing exactly where they stand and being able to take their partner for granted. It’s just there one day, the comfortable way of being with the person you fell in love with. Contentment. Ease. Trust.

  Other people miss the thrill of how it used to be as soon as they realize the newness has worn off. They long for the days when their heart would race at the mere sight of their beloved. Contentment to them is a sign of a relationship in decline. They miss what they used to have at the beginning. A feeling of wanting something else begins to seep in.

  This can be a critical time. You can chance it and just see how things shake out. Or you can try to keep the sizzle alive. I vote for keeping the sizzle alive.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  The light from the computer screen lit up the corner of the living room. Most of the lights in the house were off, and only the lamp next to the couch where Izzy sat was on. Gus and Fat Bob snuggled on the seat of the couch next to Izzy, who sat with her legs folded under her and her laptop on her lap. The words were flowing from her fingers as Izzy finished typing a chapter of the third section of the guide. She was two-thirds done! She couldn’t wait to find out how it ended. It was easy to write about comfort and warmth and feeling like part of a couple. It was a lot like how she and Jane were, and it felt good to write about it.

  A hand on her foot made her look up. Jane stood there, her hair tousled from sleep. Izzy hadn’t even noticed her come into the room. A rush of affection flooded her, and she thought about lying next to Jane in their bed with the warm comforter enveloping them in its cozy cocoon and the soft feel of Jane in her arms.

  “Hey, babe.”

  Jane stifled a yawn. “Honey, are you going to come to bed sometime soon? It’s late, and you have work tomorrow.”

  “What time is it?” Izzy checked the clock on her computer screen. “Oh, jeez! It’s past two a.m. I just got into the writing zone and lost track of time.”

  Jane rubbed her eyes. “You have the most energy I’ve ever seen in a person. You stay up like this and still go running in the morning and after work. How do you do it?”

  Izzy closed her computer. She wasn’t tired, but she really should try to get some sleep. “Good genes, I guess.” She knew it wasn’t good genes. More like a mild case of mania. The thought slightly concerned her, but she also knew it was just part of the cycle. The question was, how far into the cycle was she? Just getting started? Or near the end?

  The fact she was even questioning her state of being meant she needed to check in.

  * * *

  Light jazz floated from hidden speakers in the comfortable waiting room just outside of
an office in the three-story Victorian-style house. The place had been remodeled to accommodate several small offices, most of them used by therapists. The two stuffed chairs in the room flanked a round, antique end table. In front of the chairs was a matching coffee table featuring a stack of current magazines: People, The New Yorker, Business Week, Cosmopolitan, Parents, Time, and Psychology Today.

  Five minutes early, Izzy ignored the magazines, convinced that if she selected one, it was a test factoring into her therapist’s assessment of her. She trusted her therapist with her life but didn’t believe her when she’d laughed about the idea when Izzy had asked about it. Izzy tapped her fingers to the music and tried to empty her mind. She liked to start her sessions without an agenda. Important things surfaced if she didn’t try to guide the session. In addition to checking in about the late nights writing, she figured the trip to the ice cream shop with Haley would come up.

  The door opened, and her therapist, Tori, poked her head out.

  “Hey, Izzy. Come on in.”

  Izzy suspected Tori was bored with her by now. After twenty-two years, Tori knew just about everything about Izzy. Theirs was like a long marriage—comfortable and familiar. The longevity of their relationship defined their discussions, even though they were one-sided. The book project had spiced things up a little recently, however, and Izzy enjoyed the spark it added to their time together.

  Izzy chose one of the chairs across from Tori this time. She always rotated where she sat between the two chairs and the couch in the office for the same reason she never read the magazines in the waiting room. Tori had long ago stopped commenting on her actions.

  “How’s your week been?” Tori asked.

  Izzy crossed her legs, resting her ankle on her knee, and leaned back in the chair. She pulled the hem of her khakis to cover her sock.

  “Pretty good. Busy,” Izzy said. The same answer almost every week.

  “Work? Life? Both?” Tori asked. The same response almost every week.

  “Both. We’re coming up on the next release, so we have a ton of documentation to get out. Plus, I’m working on the book. And I’m still getting used to having Jane at home. I love it, but it’s an adjustment.” Then there was the worry about Haley, but she’d bring that up later, not as part of the mundane projects in her life. Haley deserved her own mention.

  “You now have someone to coordinate things with, adjust to their schedule, etcetera. How’s it going?”

  Izzy let a wide smile stretch across her face. “Good. I really love having her around. I look forward to coming home. I love waking up each morning with her. It’s more comfortable than I thought it would be.”

  “Good. Good. Do you find anything difficult?”

  Difficult? Jane was anything but difficult. Except… “I’m not sure I’d call it difficult, but sometimes, I feel like I have to explain things. I think it’s more on me than her, though.”

  Tori waited a beat before responding to Izzy. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. My running is one thing, I guess,” Izzy said. Actually, her running was the only thing she’d had to explain.

  “Why do you have to explain your running?”

  Izzy pinched the crease in her khakis. “She thinks it’s excessive to go twice a day.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She just asked me if I always ran twice a day. I told her not always.”

  Another pause. Izzy was used to it. “Is there a reason you’re going twice a day?”

  “It helps me stay grounded and dispel extra energy.” Izzy repeated Tori’s description for why running was good for her when she’d told her she’d started back up several years ago.

  “When do you run?”

  “In the morning before she gets up. And then again right after work, when she’s grading papers.”

  Tori paused. “How long do you go for?”

  “Usually about three miles. Sometimes five. I’m not gone for long.”

  Tori leaned forward and tented her fingers under her chin. “In the past, you’d go running when you were stressed. Are you feeling stressed?”

  “Not in a bad way,” Izzy said, picking at the cuff on her pants. “Do you think I might be swinging toward mania?”

  “Do you?”

  Izzy looked up from picking at her cuff. “You know me. I’m always worried about it.”

  Tori leaned back in her chair. “But does this time feel different?”

  “Everything feels different but in a good way. I’m in love.” There, she’d said it out loud. “I feel good. Almost high, excited. I have that Christmassy anticipation feeling I remember from being a kid.”

  Tori smiled. “It must be a nice feeling. But kids also don’t feel wholly in control of their lives. Is it possible you don’t feel in control right now?”

  Izzy thought about the question before answering. “It’s definitely a nice feeling. But I guess I’ve lost a little control of my emotions. It’s expected, right? When you fall in love? Sometimes I wonder if it’s too much, though. You know, like I should calm down a little. Like, maybe I’m too excited, or too high on the feeling.”

  “Thus, why you run twice a day?”

  “Part of it. The other part is just to have some time to let my mind go blank.”

  “That’s right. You tune out when you run.”

  She linked her fingers together and pulled up on her knee. “Yeah. But don’t worry. I’m totally aware of my surroundings.”

  “Have you thought you might be using running to escape something? Like maybe you’re literally running from something?” Tori asked.

  “I’ve thought about it, yeah,” Izzy said. And she had. She was always watching out for indications she was veering off her charted path and into bipolar territory. “I don’t think I’m trying to escape anything, though. I think it’s just my way of resetting. I also know doing anything in excess is probably not a good thing, even if the thing is supposedly a healthy thing, like running. I’ve run a lot more when I was training for marathons. Five or six miles a day isn’t excessive for an avid runner.”

  Tori tilted her head. “True. The timing of it is interesting, though. Typically, people cut down on things like running and going to the gym when they first enter a relationship so they can spend more time with their partner.”

  She didn’t like the defensive feeling rising within her. “I run when she’s asleep or busy. It’s not like I’m choosing running over spending time with her.”

  “Sounds pretty healthy to me.”

  “It does?” The defensiveness abated. “Good. Because it feels healthy. It’s like natural drugs.”

  “How about sleep? Are you getting enough?”

  “Most of the time.” Izzy knew that wasn’t true as soon as she said it. “A few nights I’ve stayed up a little later than usual to work on the book.” And have sex, but she didn’t say that.

  “How many nights do you think you stay up later than usual?” Tori rested her chin on her hand. She didn’t seem too concerned about her sleep, which was a relief. She always worried about going off her sleep schedule.

  “A couple times a week.” It was more than that, but not by much.

  “And when you do, how do you feel?”

  Izzy thought about it. “I’m usually tired the next day.”

  “Being tired is actually a good thing. How do you feel when you’re working on the book?”

  “You mean, besides feeling completely underqualified to be writing it?” Izzy grimaced.

  They’d covered this point several times already, so Tori just laughed. “Aside from the imposter syndrome, yes.”

  “Pretty focused, actually. I usually stay up later when I’m making progress on it, and I don’t want to lose the thread of creative energy.”

  “How about nutrition?”

  “I’m eating well. Probably more than usual because I have someone to eat with, and since I’m running a lot.”

  “And your meds? Is everything on track wit
h them?”

  “Yep. Three times a day like clockwork.”

  “Well, it sounds like you have the big three under control. You seem aware of what you’re doing, and you’re managing your sleep, nutrition, and meds. Plus, you’re watching out for manic behavior. As long as you have those things in check, even if you are cycling, the meds should keep it from spiraling out of control. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I think you’re right. We can chalk this up to the blush of new love and the excitement of a fun project. It will be interesting to see how things are when the newness wears off.” Then she dropped the big question Izzy had been waiting for. “Have you told Jane about your bipolar condition yet?”

  Izzy stifled a groan. “Not yet. It just never feels like the right time.”

  “I understand. It’s your business.” Tori paused.

  Izzy waited. There would be more, she knew. She wasn’t disappointed.

  “I know we’ve often talked about how being bipolar doesn’t define you. Maintaining your privacy is healthy. Think about this, though. It is a big part of who you are. As someone who is significant to you, it’s probably something she should know.”

  Izzy absorbed what Tori said. It was true. “I agree. I feel like I need to tell her. It’s only fair.”

  “I hear a ‘but.’ Are you afraid of something?”

  Izzy uncrossed her legs. “Hell, yes, I’m afraid.”

  “Tell me what you’re afraid of.”

  Izzy held up her fingers to tick off her fears. “It will scare her off. She’ll see me as damaged goods. She’ll break up with me.” Her heart raced. It had gone through her head a million times, but saying it out loud sounded way scarier, as if it could really happen.

  Tori’s brow furrowed. “Does she seem like the type to call it quits over something like this?”

  It sounded so unlike anything Jane would ever do. Jane was better than that. She wasn’t the type to run from an illness.

  “Not really.”