CAPTAIN COPENHAGEN

Captain Copenhagen tells the story of Helen and her daughter Leonie. After Leonie is diagnosed with depression at 14 years old, Helen decides that they need to move to the country that has been attributed as one of the happiest countries in the world, Denmark. Her hope is that she can use the country, culture and everything Danish to “cure” her daughter and make her happy again. Unfortunately, it’s not that simple.

This blog is a work of fiction. It includes comedic episodes from Helen’s perspective as she tries to navigate Danish life, and more subdued episodes from Leonie’s perspective as she tries to navigate her mother.

All episodes can be found at www.captaincopenhagen.co.uk.

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Thank you for visiting and I hope you enjoy!

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TRIGGER WARNING: Captain Copenhagen explores the topic of mental health.

The Day in Bed

Leonie, Daughter

I’m not getting out of bed. I can’t. No matter what happens. No matter what anyone says. I’m having a day in bed.

My eyes are closing, my whole body feels heavy. I don’t want to do anything or think about anything.

My chest aches.

I just exist. 

How long can I lie here before mum comes in? If I pretend to be asleep, would she try to wake me up? She would try to wake me up. I could pretend I’m not here. Maybe If I lie as flat as possible so that she can’t see me.

But I know what would happen.

She would lie on me to try and wake me up.

I would be flattened.

…

I can’t keep doing this.

I have to fix myself. I wish I could fix myself. I hate making mum sad. I hate that I’m like this.

Why am I like this? Idiot. I’m such an idiot.

But… would it help if she didn’t have to worry about me? Is it all my fault? I want to stop making things worse. I’m just making things worse.

She’s outside the door. I can hear her lurking. Listening and lurking.

I’m sorry mum, but go away.

I want you to go away.

I can’t face you right now.

I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to eat. Just leave me alone.

Please.

I want to be alone. 

I don’t even feel upset anymore. Just numb. There’s nothing left to cry, my tears have all dried up. There’s nothing. Just weird upset noises. And dry tired eyes.

I just stare. 

The door creaks open.

You can’t do anything stealthily in this flat.  I know where she is at all times. There’s nowhere to hide here.

She’s walking over to the bed.

Please mum. Not today.

I love you but…

I don’t want any “magic” Danish food. I don’t want to watch any “magic” Danish TV. I don’t want anything that you think will magically make me feel better. I know you want me to feel better, but…

I don’t want this today.

I can’t do this today. I’ll just fail again.

Just leave me alone.

Please.

I want to be alone.

She sits on the bed. I curl up and slowly pull the duvet over me, trying to subtly cover my head, my face, hoping she doesn’t notice, hoping she thinks I’m asleep, hoping she’ll leave.

She places something on the desk by my bed. There’s a smell. A smell that I know. A smell that I like. A heat on my face. Pasta. Topped with cheese and chili oil.

Not Danish stegt flæsk.

Not Danish frikadeller.

Just pasta.

My favourite lunch.

My favourite comfort lunch.

My not even the slightest bit Danish favourite comfort lunch.

I take the smallest peak that I can from out of the duvet. The cheese isn’t Parmesan, it’s Danish cheese. The type you slice with the Danish slicer. Of course. She couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t serve the meal to her sad daughter if it hadn’t been Danishified at least a little.

But…

But still…

She strokes the back of my head that isn’t covered by the duvet, leans forward and gives me a kiss. She stays for a couple of minutes and cuddles me through the duvet. It’s a warm cuddle. The kind of warm cuddle that I only get from my mum. It’s nice.

I let out a sniffle. I will not cry. I clench my jaw as tight as I can.

She stands up and walks to the door. A few tears start rolling down my face, I can’t make them stop. I don’t know where they came from. I thought all the water in me had dried up. But it doesn’t matter. I will not let her hear me cry.  

The door opens. She leaves.

The room is quiet. I’m alone.

I’m alone.

I unclench my jaw and cry quietly into the pillow.

Don’t go mummy.