It doesn't happen all at once as they portray in movies; there is no dramatic spiral, no one moment when everything breaks apart. It's quieter than that here. more of a slow leak You only see till you are already deflated.
First it's minor stuff. I failed to settle the electric bill. Had dinner three straight nights on cereal. Drove home but had no recall of the trip. Your hands on the wheel but your mind elsewhere, someplace darker, some place you lack language for.
Control is the falsehood we convince ourselves so we can get out of bed. White-knuckling the steering wheel, we make believe the road isn't picking itself, white-knuckling the steering wheel, and believe we are driving when actually we are simply along for the ride. Planning was her habit.
Calendars in color coding; meal preparation Sundays a system for every aspect. She is now unable to recall if she had brushed her teeth. The system is now anarchy with better marketing.