Monstrito, by Ofelia Montelongo
Living with a little monster is quite expensive. Instagram and Facebook ads tell me that I don’t have to live with it – that the anxiety that fuels it can be controlled and eliminated. And I believe it. How can I not believe it if sometimes I can control it when I’m on airplanes with three little pills that make me sleepy?
Because I didn’t pay more attention to it, it got mad. Now the fucking monster no longer respects me. It sneaks in when I teach and when I’m driving. It makes me lose my breath. My heart flutters, and my left arm goes numb. It disguises itself as ants, sometimes as a bear.
One day, it came out of nowhere while I was driving. I almost crashed. I got home, unable to breathe. It sent me to the ER ––going through an MRI has killed it a bit. After that, I realized that throwing money at it could put it to sleep for a while.
But the little bastard hasn’t die. It came back more powerful than Voldemort. It laughed at me every time I took a deep breath to calm it down. Every time I spent money on it, it quiets down a bit, so it started:
$20 USD copay. PC physician. She prescribed me Prozac. I took it for two days. It made me throw up. I read the side effects: insomnia, headache, dizziness, upset stomach, blurred vision, anxiety. My monstrito laughed when I put that in my body.
$800 MXN pesos. The cardiologist I secretly saw in Mexico. “I've never seen such a healthy heart,” he told me as he held up the EKG. “You are hiding something inside,” the doctor said. The monstrito stirred inside me. "Do you know what it is?" I nodded, lying. I knew the monstrito was here, but I don’t know when or where it was born.
$1,203 MXN. San José hospital pharmacy. I hid the Xanax white box in the bag as soon as it was given to me. Neither my mother nor my sister could find out what it was. I had already been called exaggerated-dramatic before. It was not worth it.
$1,500 MXN. Serenity Spa. I thought a massage would get rid of the chamuco, but it grew when I heard gunshots mixed with the spa music.
$564 MXN. Farmacias Similares. The place where I took a selfie with Doctor Simi, the botarga dancer/mascot––he who doesn't speak, but it seems that he is always smiling. A few sprays of lavender from there are now floating around my room––where I cry and watch funny videos until I fall asleep, trying to figure out why I can’t control my body.
$161.10. Smart Calming Companion to control breathing. This one has scented oils, and I bought it online. I have used it several times, and sent the monstrito to meditate. The whiff of eucalyptus seeps into me and soothes it over and over again.
$45. Anxiety coach. In theory, I have to watch two videos a week to write down tips on how to control it. I have never done it.
$16. Vice Wellness patches. When the breathing gadget stopped working, I stuck a patch on my arm between teaching classes. In the middle of a lecture, it made me run to the bathroom. I don't know if the monster or the lunch came out.
$38. Happy Pills. They arrived in a purple box. Vegan and organic. A capsule agitated my stomach as if it had a gremlin inside.
$32.99. Gym. Does this count if I never go? They say that exercise makes everything you don’t want to come out.
$400 MXN. Psychologist from Cuernavaca in Zoom. It’s cheaper to talk to a friend, but at least she reminded me that the monstrito wasn’t going to kill me. “It hasn’t killed you by now, has it?” “Then don’t be afraid of it. You have to learn to live with it.”
$30. CBD gummies. I haven’t researched if they are legal everywhere. After taking them for two weeks, one a day, they made me forget what I have inside.
$45. Anxiety coach. I forgot to cancel it. They keep charging me.
$38. The Anti-anxiety notebook. I don’t even open it because my monster has been asleep for the last few days.
$100. Writing workshop. My monstrito sleeps for the first few days, but on the third day, it wakes up and starts writing to itself.
Ofelia Montelongo is a bilingual writer from Mexico. She has an MBA in Strategic Leadership & an MA in Latin American Literature. Her work has been published in The Rumpus, Latino Book Review, Los Acentos Review, and elsewhere. She currently teaches at the University of Maryland and she is a PEN/Faulkner writer in residence, a Macondista & a PEN America Emerging Voices Fellow. ofeliamontelongo.com