Record of My Mental Breakdown and Recovery: The Days of Falling Apart, Episode 2 - That Moment

“How was it?”
A loud voice echoes through the office.
It is my boss’s voice, asking about the results of my business trip.
I am being questioned about my performance in front of everyone.
Depending on those results, a merciless reprimand could be unleashed right in front of my colleagues.

My chest tightens.
My throat is dry, and I cannot speak properly.
I force the report of my results out, as if squeezing it from my throat.

The results should have been decent enough.
However, if there is even the slightest thing they don’t like, the blade of their words strikes immediately.
I proceed with caution, choosing every word carefully so as not to step on a landmine.

“Alright, I understand.”
With those words, the tension in my body suddenly drains away.
I feel as if I have been released from the pressure, if only for a moment.

But that is short-lived.
I immediately start working on the report.

I compile the actual sales figures, projections for future growth,
and attach estimates and proposals for the suggested content,
putting together the concrete results in a detailed and accurate manner.

When I return to the office for just a few days every two or three weeks, I am chased by this work.
I have to finish everything within those one or two days.

Depending on the business negotiations, I even have to create additional proposals.
The work lasts until late at night.

The quiet flow of time at night.
In that silence, I silently finish the reports and proposals.
By the time I finally finish, the clock has passed midnight.

This has already become my “daily life.”
Creating documents past midnight,
it was naturally incorporated into my routine.

I drag my heavy body on my way home.
When I get home, I take a hot shower to wash everything away.
As if washing off the mud.

I peel away the accumulated fatigue and the tension that has clung to me.
As my body warms up, the armor I have been wearing so tightly
slowly peels away.

“Haa...”

Taking a breath, I shovel down a convenience store bento.
Whether on a business trip or at home, what I did was the same.

I only return to my apartment or hotel to sleep.
It was as if I were living as some kind of “device,” while I myself was absent.

Eventually, the veil of consciousness descends.
And so, the day comes to an end.

It was as if...
like a repeating shadow play,
I was blankly watching a picture-story show
where I was not the protagonist.

Looking back on it now,
I think I had already closed off my heart by this time.
A heart covered in thick, hard, multi-layered velvet.

The "true self" deep inside was watching everything from within its shell.
As if it were a bystander to someone else's life.

“Ah... he’s going to be there tomorrow.”

I whispered that to myself and closed my eyes.
I sank into the escape known as sleep.

Early morning.
I dragged my heavy body along, forcing myself to prepare for work.
I especially didn't want to go when he was there.
It felt as if my body and mind were heading in completely different directions.

Dragging my lagging heart along, I forced myself to put on a facade of "humanity."
And today, once again, I donned the "armor" known as a suit.
That was my final fortress.

When I arrived at the office, he was at the desk next to mine.
Today was the monthly report meeting.
It was a meeting where each section reported on monthly sales results
and future projections.

The section I was in charge of naturally had to report as well.
This was a meeting that weighed particularly heavily on my mind.

In this meeting, if the results were good, nothing was said.
But if there was even the slightest flaw, they would pick at it like widening a wound,
unleashing a concentrated barrage of criticism.

In the end, it was standard procedure to be grilled
until I couldn't say anything and fell silent.

“Alright, let's proceed with the presentations in order.”
One by one, the reports continued.
Everyone had prepared thoroughly to defend their own numbers.

Of course, so had I.
I made sure to grasp even the smallest details so I could answer anything asked.
But, as if every time, there was someone who would only pick at my numbers.

That was him.
Even in months when the results were good, he would bring up unrelated figures and find something to attack.

“Next, Section XX, your report.”

My turn had come.
My heart turned as hard as steel.

I proceeded with my presentation, paying meticulous attention not to say anything unnecessary.
“That concludes the sales and results.”
As if to cut off my concluding words, he opened his mouth.

“Wait a moment.
That may be true regarding sales,
but what about the project management?”
He was picking at something unrelated again.
He surely said that knowing that we happened to have staff out sick this month, leaving management thin.

An exchange that repeated like a cat-and-mouse game every month.
I was getting sick and tired of it.
However, if I couldn't answer, the concentrated barrage would begin.
I couldn't let my guard down.

I managed to get through it safely and sat down.
He looked at me with a hateful expression.

“Don't look at me.”

I mutter that to myself, and
as if nothing happened, I cast my eyes down to the documents in my hand.

My head feels hazy.
Yet, my whole body feels hot, as if it's burning from the inside.

The feeling of "I don't care" and the feeling of "anger rising up."
Opposing emotions are surging at the same time.
My stomach tightens.

I breathe quietly, trapping that heat inside.
Like a flower petal gently closing,
I softly wrap up the emotions deep within.

Before I knew it, the next presenter's report was already finished.
When the meeting ends, a wave of exhaustion hits me.
Every time it ends, I'm left with the feeling that a piece of me has been whittled away.

But it doesn't end here.
I knew that.

"Is the client really going to be okay with the contents of this report?"
A loud voice echoes throughout the office.
He's closing in on me again.

……It’s none of your business, is it?
I swallow the urge to say that,
and answer while feigning composure.

"What do you mean by that?"
I gauge his reaction, trying to figure out what he's getting at.
I have to precisely dismantle the basis of his argument.

To the person smugly pointing out concerns,
I calmly explain that there are no fundamental issues.

Even then, a bell was ringing in my head.
Is that bell a warning?
Or is it a bell tolling for something?

At this moment, I still didn't understand.
"I see."
Watching the expression of the person who says that with a feigned sense of understanding,
something inside me cracks with a sound.
It was a sound I could clearly hear—a sharp, snapping noise.

Yet, while wearing the "armor" of a suit,
I pretend that the anomaly isn't happening.
Ignoring every voice calling out from the depths of my heart.

Wrapping my heart in a thick shell,
I spent my days feeling as if I were watching someone else's life.
And so, I just let the farce that had been going on for years pass by.
At least, until this moment,
I had "intended to just let it pass."

However.
The collapse came suddenly.

Ah, he's there again.
I return from my business trip and finish my expense report at my desk as usual.

But something was different.
A chill runs through my body.
Ugh.
Nausea rises up.
Every pore in my body opens at once,
and an unpleasant sweat begins to ooze out.

I crawl my way to the restroom.
Immediately, the feeling of suffocation vanishes.
My breathing becomes a little easier.

What is this?
What on earth is happening?
My head is in chaos.
I'm panicking.

I took deep breaths repeatedly,
and finally regained my composure, intending to return to my seat.

…But I couldn't move.

My body felt as heavy as lead, and it wouldn't budge.

At that time, I still hadn't realized.
The price for years of neglecting my heart and forcing myself to keep going
had suddenly manifested into reality.

Discomfort overflowed like a dam breaking.
In the end, I was unable to return to my seat.

And so, I ended up taking a leave of absence.

However…
At that time, I still didn't understand.
The breakdown was not an "end," but merely a "beginning."
To be continued in the next episode, "Onset."