There she stood — draped in a fushia-colored, satin laced-trim pajama ensemble. It was her favorite sleepwear because it made her feel so pretty.
Feeling lethargic and out of sorts, she longed for sunshine. Hastily, she opened the shutters, allowing the beaming sun to kiss her pale face.
Her body relaxed while she basked in the sun’s radiating warmth. Soon, her peaceful moment was interrupted by a tapping sound outside her window.
The unexpected visitor was a red robin who entertained her by trilling its song. The melody reminded her of something from her past that she could not put her finger on.
Desperate for clarification, she closed her eyes while taking deep breaths, hoping to remember the event.
She slowly opened her eyes to explore the beauty in nature, while gazing at her reflection through her bedroom’s stained-glass window.
Seemingly in shock, she shrieked, “Oh, no! What happened to my face!”
Her gloomy countenance revealed that her state of mind was unstable. She had always taken pride in her appearance and never missed a day without adorning her face with makeup.
The disheveled hairstyle and daily grooming routine she once had was a distant memory. The established reputation she built for being glamorous had somehow dissipated. This was not who she really was.
Oblivious to her unusually unkempt appearance and sluggish posture, she realized this was her wake-up call. Her predicament forced her to face reality and how it impacted her well-being.
Her clinical depression had been diagnosed months earlier, but she was in denial. She was unwilling to face her dilemma, so she attempted to quiet her racing thoughts and overwhelming anxiety.
She tried hard to remain calm, but to no avail.
Suddenly, the bird that sang to her earlier flew away, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
The house seemed unusually quiet. So quiet — she could have heard a mouse stirring around.
Without a rodent in sight, she did start to hear something.
“Hmm, what is that?”
“Thump!..thump!..tha-thump!”
“That sound. Where’s it coming from? she pondered.”
Scanning the room to investigate where the sound emanated, she soon discovered it was nearby.
That sound was coming from her heart.
She listened intently to the unrelenting beats.
The succession of sounds synchronized with a nearby dripping faucet in the bathroom.
It was like music to her ears—reminding her of something — like an event.
“What a minute! she reasoned.”
Her reflection on a past event became vivid, as if it happened yesterday.
Unlike her experience with the singing robin, she now had clarification and could finally place her finger on the familiar sound.
“Na-na-now, I remember, she exclaimed. That was a beautiful rendition, she reminisced.”
She attended a local community orchestra performing a harmonious rendition of the musical genius Ludwig Beethoven’s 5th Symphony in C minor composition.
The event was intriguing and dramatic and ingrained as a fond memory in her mind.
Although she could not remember this event when the bird sang, the memory of it resurfaced when she heard the synchronized sound of her beating heart and the leaking faucet.
Their harmony reminded her of the symphony — her “happy place.” She had a grand time, and it filled her with excitement.
So, she drew a bubble bath, got dressed, and booked a voyage to the south of France.
The isolate stood tall next to the Eiffel Tower—smiling ear-to-ear—cappuccino in hand. Then, she excitedly shouted, “Yay, I remembered the symphony!”
She thought, “The shackles of depression are broken and lost their grip on me. Alas, I have escaped from the prison of isolation.”
She was now liberated and happy and was no longer identified as The Isolate.