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

The First Day Back

Leonie, Daughter

School finally called.

I’d been off for a long time. I’d been in bed for a long time. I’d been wondering how much longer I’d be able to get away with it.

Apparently the time had come. I had to go back to regular life. And I hated it. It was so hard to move, to think, to do anything. I felt like I was dragging my feet, like I was dragging my whole body around with me. But to add to all of it, I just felt so angry that I had to go.

Inside me felt like a pot of pain and despair bubbling over, manifesting itself into this huge internal scream that I didn’t have the energy to express. I know that sounds incredibly melodramatic, and I hate that it sounds melodramatic, but I don’t know how else to describe it. I’d been avoiding going to school, I really didn’t want to go to school and I absolutely hated that I had to go to school.

I didn’t want to go to school.

I didn’t want to do anything.

And I really didn’t want to see anybody.

But even more than that, I didn’t want anybody asking me if I was ok.

I tried to fake a smile to someone as I entered the school, but then remembered that I’m not a smiley person. I just kept my head down and tried to emit the normal amount of hostility that I did on a good day.

I do have one friend. My English friend Luke from Birmingham, or ‘Luke’ for short. He says that I have a scary aura. He says I come across as unapproachable. This is probably true because I don’t want people to approach me.

I could easily make other friends. I’m in an international school so everyone around me spoke English.

But I’m happy just being left alone. Luke is enough, and even some days he is too much. He’s not the worst person to have around, but he insists on talking to me. It’s a habit of his. I read books on my breaks. Luke doesn’t understand book reading etiquette.

Today I took this to the next level. I entered the classroom, sat at my desk, took out my book and also put in my earphones. A double barrier. Unapproachable.

I really didn’t want to talk to anyone today.

I have never seen Luke so puzzled. He shifted in his chair next to me, which since our meeting he’d decided would be his seat for the rest of the year. He looked at me and just sat, apparently bound by our contract of friendship. Just there. Just sits. And fidgets.

But I refused to give in, I wouldn’t engage. I didn’t want to engage. I was going to get through this day, and then the next day, and then I could try to go back to being at home, my obligatory visit to school over.

As the teacher came in to start the lesson I put the book away and took out my earphones. Luke is too good a boy to try and start a conversation after the teacher had come in.

The first lesson was maths, which to be honest, may as well have been taught in Danish because I am useless at maths. It doesn’t make any sense to me at all. I knew that.

But…

Today, for some reason, it was so much worse…

I just couldn’t comprehend anything the teacher was saying. I couldn’t remember anything that she’d said ten minutes after she’d said it. My brain just felt fuzzy. Even though I knew I should be trying to take this in, my brain really did feel like it was just stuck on static. And I didn’t have the energy to try and stop it from happening.

And it might not have mattered if the teacher hadn’t handed out that sheet at the end of the lesson. It might not have mattered if that sheet hadn’t included questions on what we had just covered. And it might not have mattered if… if…

…she hadn’t decided to ask people to share their answers.

I tried to look down as much as I could, but I could feel her looking at me. I knew what was about to happen before it even happened. And when she eventually asked me to share my answer to question three I didn’t know what to do. I had no answer to question three.

I thought I might have just brushed it off. Played the whole thing for a joke. Just let it all wash over me. But I didn’t. I wanted to cry.

I wanted to cry because I hadn’t been able to understand this stupid maths question and everyone was looking at me and they’d know how stupid I was for not being able to understand this stupid question. These stupid people giving me their stupid attention which I didn’t want.

I just wanted to be left alone.

My eyes were watering. What was I doing? This was not like me. And now not only were people going to think I was stupid, I was making a scene.

Stop it you stupid stupid girl!

If I could have hit myself I would have.

If I could have hit the teacher I would have.

If I could have hit everyone in the room I would have.

Except…

Except the good boy sitting next to me. The good boy who never does anything to break the rules. The good boy whose hand was shaking as he was trying to sneak me his answer sheet.

I took a sharp inhale and tried to get it together and hold it all in. I unsubtly took the sheet and read the answer that he had written for question three, my voice quivering more than I would have liked.

The teacher must have seen what we had done. She must have known. But she just said…

‘Yes yes!’ and smiled at me with a warm and comforting smile.

And then we were on to question four.

By the time lunch came around we had finished maths and been through an hour of history. It felt like the longest few hours of my life. I just wanted this all to be over.

People were looking at me, I could feel it. I had embarrassed myself, people would engage. Right? Or would they just ignore me and not want to associate with me.

Luke would most definitely engage. And I would have to… I wanted to… say thank you. But I didn’t know how I would do it without getting upset. He would bring it up and then it would get us in a situation. I just wanted to go home.

Maybe if I just quickly put my earphones in and sat in the corner of the room. But that would look weird. I wanted to leave. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. But Luke, I needed to thank Luke, right? Oh god… such a mess…

I wanted to go home. I don’t care how it would look, I just wanted to go home.

I risked looking to my left, at the good boy. The good boy who might not be so good anymore because of me. He looked back at me.

I refused to cry, I had to get through somehow. We had to talk about the thing I didn’t want to talk about.

I took a deep breath.

Which I’m sure he saw.

‘Do you want to go feed that cat that shows up outside?’ he quickly asked.

I released the breath.

And I nodded.

He was definitely still a good boy.

And that was definitely what I wanted to do.