No Man's Land 2

Chapter 1

"It's just not that fun having fun when you don't want to have fun, Mom"

Inko thought she was a good mother. A quite good one, if one asked. However, maybe her mistake was to have expectations. She pictured her son as a doctor, because "they make good money, they found a job," she would answer to anyone who would ask her why.

The day Izuku decided to become a psychologist is etched in her mind for the rest of her life: this was the first expectations that was unmet.

Oh, now Inko would laugh when she looks back at her life. How many more times Izuku unmet her own expectations.

"I want to help people! I want to be someone capable of helping. I want to be someone's hero!" Izuku would scream when he was only an eighteen years old boy. Oh, that day Inko laughed at her son, more out of depletion rather than pure contempt.

Then again, Izuku said something that unmet Inko's expectation of a nice family for her son... this one hit her harder than she would have imagined.

"Mom..." and it was strange to hear her son, her grown up boy, talking to her with such kind and childish voice.

"Mom... I..."

Inko remembers that night, when they were alone at the dim light of a candle: Izuku was in his room when he called for her.

"I think I am gay...," he whispered and Inko... she reacted like she never thought she would. Tears and rage escaped from her eyes and mouth before she could have stopped them. She hated. She hated someone but that someone was not Izuku. She hated herself for making up all these expectations that back then made her son cry. Because how could such a young and fragile man hold all this weight upon his shoulder?

What a wonderful thing she said that night.

"You are delusional." She muttered spitting venom, refusing to look at him in the eyes because god forbid catching the gay virus!

How pitiful she had been that day and all the years that had yet to come.

She recalled the day when Izuku brought home a nice girl; she does not even remember her name, because of course Izuku would have made his mother happy bringing home such a nice girl.

"I like her" he said.

"Do you like her too?" he added as he grabbed his mother's hand for dear life. He wanted to be recognized by his mother. He wanted to be the son that would met her expectations.

Inko did not like her.

Two years later, when Izuku was twenty-five and a doctor in Psychology (do you see the irony?); he became depressed. He was diagnosed with a major depressive episode. It soon became a major depressive disorder. Izuku was a 296.23, Inko would remember this code for as long as she lived. Major Depressive Disorder with Anxiety, in other words:

"Major depressive affective disorder, single episode, severe, without mention of psychotic behavior" The Psychiatrist said as he closed the ICD-9, a manual in which every disorder was written down.

Izuku was a 296.23; at least he did not have psychotic behaviors! She has been lucky...

Izuku was no longer Izuku. Who was this limping figure still living with her and calling her mom? Inko questioned herself, trying to find which mistake made it all worse.

Maybe that was a sign, a message just for her to hold tight, the worst was yet to come.

"Do you want to talk about your patients?" she would ask him to cheer him up, even if it was not a right thing to do.

"I would rather not. I just..." and a vague gesture would follow his words, as if telling his mother to please, please... look through my words.

Izuku was a sad man by the age of thirty years. Inko noticed this when he found him on the couch, a pair of glasses weighting over his nose bridge.

"Have you slept today?" she would ask him. Because after the depression, insomnia decided to make herself at home. She would wake up in the middle of the night and see a light in Izuku's room. Which patient was he working on?

Izuku would never answer such questions. Inko stopped asking.

By the age of thirty-eight Izuku showed himself on a wheelchair and by his side there was this strange man. Izuku was smiling.

Oh, Inko thought that day, it was because of me all the time. This realization come upon her as a shining star falling mere centimeter from her. It was devastating.

She always thought that her son was like this because god wanted him to be so. She always thought that Izuku was like this because of the work he was doing. She always thought... but she never listened to her son.

Moreover, by now, she would go back to those times. Oh, how much she wanted to give her life rather than seeing her son in the hospital she was.

The smile she saw upon his lips was nowhere to be seen.

Child of mine, where are you? She asked herself during those nights in which she would caress his distressed and worn out body. The metal of his half-prosthetic right leg was cold under her hand.

Psycho Social Center. Izuku's new home.

NOTES

Okay. It makes me sad writing about sunshine boy like this. However, we all know that in this story Izuku is no longer a sunshine boy. I cannot even tell how much of me there is in him.

I found it necessary to look deep into Inko's thoughts; she has to be strong for her son now that Todoroki is no longer there.

The ICD code is real, ICD is the International Classification of Diseases, and it is similar to the DSM that I use during work and study. The name of the hospital is real too and it is near where I live, they are common in almost every city. It is the famous CPS in Italy.

I think that it Is hard for a mother to hear that her son is depressed. I had a case similar to this and let me tell you, I hold back tears.

It will be hard for Izuku to be on the other side, I am in therapy myself and I found it so strange.

I want to keep the chapters near this long. The themes are heavy and I do not want to overcharge you with long ass chapters. (Around 1000 words)

Please, to all of you, stay safe. Ask for help even if it seems useless. It never is. If you need a word of comfort, please contact me.

We will be back with Izuku and his new reality. Stay tuned, psychopharmacologic is coming!

[Quote at the start from "Explaining my depression to my mother" by Sabrina Benaim]