Truth

I can’t breathe.  The air goes in and out but I’m not filled.  Life is being lived around me and it feels like everyone is rushing and I’m moving slow.  My limbs are heavy. My chest is cramped.  My eyes are burning.  My body aches.  My muscles tight.  Everything seems slow except my racing thoughts.  I don’t understand it.  Maybe I’ve been running so long.  Living on autopilot as my parents were dying.  Being on duty for every doctor, every nurse, every med.  Maybe I worked too hard to smile and be present for my children growing up fast before me.  Loving them through my pain.  Trying to feel the joy of their very exsisitence.  Every milestone.  Every smile.  Every tear.  Wanting them to have a normal family, loving home, and everything I wanted, but didn’t have.  Maybe I tried too hard, too long to hold on to me, my laughter, my joy, my energy, my wicked sense of humor even when my husband changed overnight, cheated repeatedly with nobodies, with trashy strippers and had a second secret home.  Maybe I held it in too hard when I thought I was letting it out.  Maybe I denied the hurt I felt as I watched my husband grieve the loss of his girlfriends like I was no one.  Like he was more important than any of us.  Maybe I held on to my anger too tight because I felt stronger in my hate than I did in my hurt.

Whatever it is, I’m not controlling it now and it’s rearing its head like an angry beast and swallowing me whole.  I sit at the pit of its stomach burning but trying to climb out, not knowing what I’m climbing into.  I don’t know what this is but I need it to be temporary.  I need it to go away.  It’s exhausting and scary and dark.  I miss my light.  

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