My broken and narrow view
Keeps me perched
In the darkest of caverns
My mind can house
Shadows crowd along
These walls of discomfort
Start as a whisper
Only to ricochet
Through the cold stark
Conscious and unconscious
Its a cause for letting go
Your hand no longer fits mine
I’ve lost the sense of comfort
When you call my name
Special connection once so binding
Now severed at its core
Two persons passing
Is all that we are
Shadows in the same room
Crawling up a different wall
Laughter barely a rumble
Replies with a half smile
What we have yet to admit
Is we are broken
I’m trying to be strong. If that means immersing myself in breakfast burritos,television and booze i am superwoman. Curtains closed. Pajamas on. No shower for 4 days. Didn’t leave the house for 4 days. Calling in sick. Believing I am sick. Tissues not for a cold but the steady stream of unwanted tears.
But,then I look in that mirror while brushing my teeth, trying to rid myself of depression stench, I am broken. Red swollen eyes peering back at me. I want to avert my eyes and embrace the pain at the same time. The darkness is here. Taken over. I am swept downstream into the proverbial pit in a matter of days. Maybe it was hours. I don’t even know. Does it really matter? I have come to rest in the mud and mire. Couldn’t move if I wanted to. Muffled screams, cries for help. No one can hear you down here. Devil got my tongue and pride.
Denial is like a tattoo, etched into my being. Its okay. I’m alright. Just breathe. Shake it off. Nothing to see here. I’m only drowning in my own fears. My own half truths. Depression whispers in my ear. You don’t belong. Burden. Weakness oozing from your pores. Look at you, pathetic sole rippling in agony. Why? For what? You’ve got a car. House. Job. Husband. Please. Many other people have it hard. Are struggling. If you killed yourself the world would carry on without a doubt. These whispers become roars. I cower in the corner.
Half truths. I do feel like a burden. I do worry I am too much. My weakness bleeds into my job, my marriage. I’m not present. Always battling that devil. He’s got not only my tongue, but my ear. Nonsense filtering into my heart. Adrenaline of hate seeps into my psyche. I could pull the trigger so easily in these moments. I picture it. I embody it.
But, I don’t. The television roars. The doorbell sings of pizza. Distraction. Pleasant or unpleasant somehow keeps me here. The good guys on tv prevail. Maybe, so can I. Trivial, yes. But I takes what it takes. The grim reaper may be lurking, but I might just be stronger than I think.
My world has been severed at the deepest intersection I know. The connection broken at the most fragile part of me: my heart. Shattered. The pieces fall about me one by one. It was a slow desecration of the magic we created. The back pocket I often tucked you in was tearing, unbeknownst to me. The interwoven dance of our souls seemed to be slowing down. Touch. Intimate touch was no longer present. It was as if my hand just reached through yours. No more holding on. Soon only blankets were keeping me warm. I retreated into myself. Believing it has finally come true. I am too much for you. The internal emotional chaos bleeds into the external often times for only you to see. You bare witness to my very essence wilting and decaying, afraid to stay and afraid to go. Sacred space that allowed for a special kind of love inching smaller. My wall that you brought down resurrected on fear. Impulse. Necessity. Such a small house yet the division ever apparent. I steal looks at you hoping to feel you. Hoping to understand where I went wrong. I try to speak but words fall silent, die on my lips. What’s to say but Wreckage. Selfishness. Lost in a bipolar world so cruel. Held captive. Beaten. No longer myself. It’s not a stretch to say I am no longer the bright eyed, vibrant, confident girl you fell in love with. The outer shell may project glimpses, but inside the truth is known. I’ve fallen from grace. No amount of forgiveness and acceptance can bring her back. It’s not lost on me how much you hurt. I have yet to tame the beast within me. I secretly fear the day the door swings wide. I’d beg you to stay, promise of change. But, those would be lies. I don’t know who I’ll be from day to day. The confusion rings true for me and I know for you. Just know that every ounce of me that can loves you tremendously.
I had a hallucination last night while my husband was not home. I could have gotten hurt. Maybe even quite hurt had I not “woken” up. I don’t know any other way to say it. I guess I could say, Come back to reality. I tried to make a ladder with a mish mash of things in our shed. The plan was to get my body, which was very cold and dead, down from the noose which it was hanging from. What I chose to make the “ladder” with was very unstable, and well just not viable or realistic. I attempted to climb on top, but as would be expected I fell backwards. I hit the wall, which is made of cinderblock. This is what jostled me. In that moment, looking at what I was doing, looking up for something that wasn’t there, I was able to remind myself “this isn’t real, this isn’t real.” This is the much needed mantra I have adopted to help me out of a hallucination when I am by myself. It works sparingly.
I left everything as it was and fled the shed. As I got back to my kitchen and sat down, I could feel anger welling deep inside me. I had no one to call. So I took to my virtual pen and paper to expel the pain. I am writing this to the devil or whatever evil spirit that keeps taunting me:
Can there be no fucking respite? Can I not just have one night to myself. Please explain to me what this is all about. Please step up and show yourself. Tell your story. Accuse me. Blame me. I need to know what it is I have done to deserve this. This torture. This agonizingly slow passing of time where I am at risk of being assaulted. Assaulted by invisible fucking things by most respects. I tip toe around the corner because I don’t know what might be coming. If you are here please stand tall. I can’t play hide and seek much longer. I don’t like your game, your style, your vicious chanting. I may not be innocent but I am not evil. I will repent. I will make it right. I beg of you to bring the truth forward. Help me solve this painful riddle. Help me out of this maze of confusion and chaos. I can change, if that’s it. I can be quiet. I can be better. Whatever it is, I can adjust myself. Until I know what needs to be addressed I am left with this fear. Please, that seems so unfair. I didn’t ask for any of this. I’m trying to accept what is before me. As the days drag on it gets harder not easier. I simply don’t understand.
The tears keep falling as I slowly collapse on the inside. If it’s defeat you are looking for, declare yourself the victor right now. Take the trophy. Carry it proud. I am weak in the knees. Deflated. Beaten. I would think this is enough. But no, you just keep coming at me. Please just let me be.
I cried so many tears as I wrote this. I felt empowered, broken, flawed, alone and beaten all at once. I think I wanted these words to be more powerful in the sense that I was standing my ground. But, I have to honor where I was at that moment. Let the words hold the power as they are. There is still time for more pungent rhetoric. This feels like a battle and I may not have won yesterday, but there is a second chance today.