I blog a lot when I feel high emotions. It's like my way of coping with things. A lot of my heightened emotions these days hover around depression and sadness. I don't like to talk about being sad or depressed because I feel like no one understands because no one has lived in my body with my brain. I don't know, but there's my disclaimer for this potentially depressing blog post.
Recently one of my book clubs read "The Haunting of Hill House" by Shirley Jackson. I found the book to be a creepy discussion on mental illness with a lot of dark humor. The book club was conveniently timed because Netflix just released a new series based loosely on the book.
It's a pretty well reviewed series and there's been a lot of buzz about the show. Dave and I started watching it almost immediately. I have found that sometimes art immitates life. The show struck a heaavy cord with me last night and I can't get it out of my head.So spoiler alert I'm going to ruin this show right now.
The show kind of surrounds the events at the house in the past and the present. The youngest in the family, Eleanor (Nell), hangs herself at the house in the present day.
I know you might say, "Hello, why are you watching this show?" In my defense, it felt very different from my personal life so far. Mark's suicide wasn't pushed through paranormal events or visions. So it didn't feel real until episode six.
Episode six is all about the family coming back together in the present day for her funeral/viewing. They are all together talking and arguing about the past and their ugly parts in both the present/past. In a flashback the family is trying to find Nell in Hill House. After a lightning strike, she appears out of nowhere hysterical. She keeps crying and it flashes to the present. Her body is in the casket and her bent neck ghost standing in front of it, while her twin looks on.
The voice-over is when she was a little girl saying something like, "I was here the whole time and you didn't see me. I was always here.You didn't see me."
I'm crying all over again now. It's so heartbreaking. This is a family I understand, a family that can get lost in their own lives. I get a little too involved with my own stuff. The twin in the show is a long time addict. I may not be addicted to alcohol or drugs, but priorities can push people in different ways. I can't help put myself in the twin's place and Mark where Nell was.
Mark was not killed by "a house". I think my family knew he was struggling,. some more than others. I run through those last months in my head, the impressions I had. I went with him to see the single's ward bishop (the first time he probably stepped in a church in 13 years. I went with him to get him help to see a counselor. They denied him because he wasn't ready to come back to church in any capacity.
I remember the phone calls and the text messages. I remember last August, sitting in Carl's Jr with him, while my kids played in the play place. His back to the glass divider from the family section. I remember the way he didn't meet my eyes. The defeat and the weight he carried from depression, mistakes, loss, and pain.
I think I listened to every prompting. I can't help wondering if I missed one while a kid was screaming or when I was scrolling through Facebook. I texted him and called him, but he still made that choice. I want to scream, "I see you! I saw you!"
I know that in this life I will not know or truly understand his death. Sometimes I don't know what to do with that knowledge. I want to demand it. It's not about me. He was always there, but sometimes I didn't really see him. Do we ever really see someone for who there in their entirety? I don't think so. It's easier to hide things we don't like or are ashamed of.
I feel like I've written myself in circles. Did I see him? I don't know anymore. Does anyone really see me? I don't know. This is the true horror, I guess-despair in ourselves.
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