Chapter 10

As March began, June had her next session with Solin. She shared her growing concerns—her racing heart, the endless loop of thoughts in her mind, and an overwhelming feeling that something terrible was about to happen. Despite this internal chaos, Hadrian kept reassuring her that she seemed perfectly fine from the outside. This contrast between how she felt and how she appeared left June feeling even more isolated. She was terrified that the extra energy she had been feeling might be a precursor to a manic episode, something she hadn’t experienced in years.

Solin listened carefully, offering validation without adding to June's fears. She recognized that June had just made a significant move by setting a tough boundary in her life, and the stress of that could easily be a trigger for these symptoms. Solin didn’t want to push June back onto medication without giving her the opportunity to see if she could navigate the situation without it. Instead, she suggested that June meet with her psychiatrist, Dr. Saeed, to explore options. June agreed, though reluctantly. Dr. Saeed had never been her favorite.

Earlier that same day, June and Hadrian had both taken time off work to attend a video call with Ms. Harlow, Elizabeth’s teacher. The conversation was focused on Elizabeth’s struggles with depression, which had begun to affect her school performance. Ms. Harlow had noticed changes and wanted to address them before things got worse.

Elizabeth had come home early from school the previous day, upset and overwhelmed. June had allowed her to stay home an extra day to decompress after they talked, but this call with Ms. Harlow felt critical. Earlier in the school year, June had already brought up the subject of bullying when Elizabeth had complained about it, but Ms. Harlow hadn’t seen anything she would classify as bullying. She acknowledged that there were conflicts, especially among the fifth graders who were still adjusting to being back in the classroom after the long COVID hiatus. But she assured June that Elizabeth held her own in those situations, sometimes even instigating the confrontations.

June, however, wasn’t satisfied with that explanation. She suspected that the bullying Elizabeth experienced was far more covert—those subtle, insidious comments and actions that fly under the radar of teachers. Having been bullied herself at that age, June knew how easily these things could be missed. And she had more insight than Ms. Harlow did—Elizabeth had been in therapy for depression for some time, and more recently, her therapist had become so concerned that she referred Elizabeth for a neuropsychological evaluation.

The results of the evaluation had come back unclear, placing Elizabeth somewhere on the borderline between ADHD and major depressive disorder. The doctor had hesitated to give her an ADHD diagnosis outright, explaining that Elizabeth’s IQ scores were exceptionally high, which often caused social difficulties for kids her age. Nearly three standard deviations above the mean, to be exact, in the 99th percentile.

June left the evaluation feeling frustrated, thinking, Great. My kid is smart and depressed. Tell me something I don’t already know. June herself had often tested in the 98th and 99th percentile as a child, but it hadn't mattered much in the grand scheme of things. So what? she thought. What does intelligence have to do with any of this?

It didn’t help that the doctor had quoted Elizabeth's self-criticism during testing: “Come on, dummy, you know this,” and “Stupid, that’s not it, start over.” Elizabeth had always been hard on herself, but hearing those phrases from a professional gave them more weight.

Then came the growth mindset pamphlets the doctor handed her, as if this concept was some revolutionary discovery, followed by a recommendation for a book titled Your Defiant Child. June bristled at that suggestion. Defiant? No, Elizabeth was not defiant—she was troubled, sensitive, and struggling. What June needed wasn’t another book with a blanket diagnosis. She needed tools, real strategies to help her daughter cope.

As June read through the report again later, something else caught her attention. The doctor had quoted her directly, writing, “Mother says Elizabeth lies about everything all the time and steals things.” June was taken aback. She didn’t remember saying it quite like that. Yes, she had mentioned that Elizabeth had started lying more often, even about trivial things, and had been caught stealing her siblings’ belongings. But June had shared this not to label her daughter as a problem child, but to express her concern that this behavior was out of character for Elizabeth. Seeing it written so definitively made June feel misunderstood and uneasy about the doctor’s overall assessment.

June still didn’t have a clear plan of action, and Hadrian seemed equally lost. But during their meeting with Ms. Harlow, June decided it was time to start sharing the evaluation report with people who knew Elizabeth well—people who could offer more than just talk therapy or misguided parenting books. She offered to share the report with both Ms. Harlow and the school’s social worker in hopes that they could provide some additional support for Elizabeth.

Yet, as she left the meeting, guilt weighed heavily on her. Nine months had passed since she received the evaluation, and she had done little with the information. Poor Elizabeth had been floundering, lost in her own emotional battles, while June was consumed by her personal struggles. Hadrian, busy focusing on being the family’s provider, hadn’t been much help either. The shame gnawed at June, making her feel like she had failed as a mother, like she had let Elizabeth down when she needed her most.

With Elizabeth excelling in Forensics and martial arts, June turned her attention to finding activities that might suit her other children, Emily and Evelyn. Martial arts had been an immediate failure for Emily—she resisted the lessons, ignored the sensei’s instructions, and barely showed the respect typically expected in the practice. Evelyn had done better initially, even making a friend in the program. But after a few months, when the pressure to join the more advanced black belt program loomed, Evelyn hesitated. She admitted she didn’t enjoy it enough to commit.

So, June explored other options, eventually landing on theater. She had fond memories of her own childhood, finding solace in music, dance, and drama at an arts school, and she hoped that theater might offer her daughters a similar outlet. Emily, always competing with Elizabeth, might find her own voice there, and Evelyn, shy and withdrawn, could perhaps come out of her shell. They both seemed eager to give it a try, so June signed them up for a community production of Chip and Chum, a playful story about a chipmunk and a squirrel at the local Twilight Theater in Oak Ridge.

Around this time, June was still dealing with her own symptoms. By the time she saw Solin, she felt much better. So much so that June wondered if Solin had been able to detect the extent of the distress she had been feeling before. Solin always seemed to take June’s concerns seriously, but June knew that her outward appearance often didn’t reflect the intensity of her internal experience. Still, she followed her nightly routine—making dinner, helping with homework—until Hadrian arrived home from work at his usual time, around 6:30 p.m.

As was typical, Hadrian made himself something to eat, missing the family dinner. He and June were often like ships passing in the night, existing in the same space but rarely connecting in any meaningful way. After eating, Hadrian would head to the bedroom to watch TV until about 8 p.m., when he usually called it a night.

Hadrian's love for gadgets had turned their home into a high-tech fortress. Each night at 8 p.m., the kids' devices would automatically shut down—a routine Hadrian had programmed into their “smart” home system. To say the Hart home was high-tech was an understatement. Every room, except for the kids' bathroom, had a Google Home device, several were even equipped with displays, and linked to security cameras inside and out. From the living room to the bar downstairs, Hadrian had installed all the gadgets he could dream up. June had grown used to it, though sometimes she felt like their family’s life was on autopilot, monitored and logged by the systems her husband had so carefully built.

In the first years of the 21st century, a third World War broke out. Those of us who survived knew mankind could never survive a fourth; that our own volatile natures could simply no longer be risked. So we have created a new arm of the law: The Grammaton Cleric, whose sole task it is to seek out and eradicate the true source of man's inhumanity to man - his ability to feel.

Prozium - The great nepenthe. Opiate of our masses. Glue of our great society. Salve and salvation, it has delivered us from pathos, from sorrow, the deepest chasms of melancholy and hate. With it, we anesthetize grief, annihilate jealousy, obliterate rage. Those sister impulses towards joy, love, and elation are anesthetized in stride, we accept as fair sacrifice. For we embrace Prozium in its unifying fullness and all that it has done to make us great.

Equilibrium (2002)

Daniel: When do I learn how to punch?

Miyagi: Better learn balance. Balance is key. Balance good, karate good. Everything good. Balance bad, better pack up, go home. Understand?

Karate Kid (1984)