Can’t say that I love feeling this way, like my stomach is trying to compress right around my belly button and my head wants to float away. Pain can make you feel disoriented, and emotional pain comes with a much longer lasting physical drain. What do you do when you can’t cry? It certainly doesn’t mean it hurts any less.
My eyes are dry and my brain wont shut up. Did I say the wrong thing? The thoughts in my head are certainly worse than the reality, but all I get is “Leave me alone.” What if I’m making things worse by talking, not talking, is it nagging? Am I over reacting, or not reacting enough? I don’t want to be known as the drama queen or nagging wife.
Pandora is certainly not making it any better, I put on my Evanescence station for solace, and it seems like every song is trying to wring more tears and hurt from me. This is certainly funk level, I refuse to be depressed. I am not depressed…maybe. Lies can lead down some pretty viscously dark holes. I prayed last night and again this morning, because the façade cuts deeper. He is in the bedroom and I spent the night on the couch. I asked, cried, begged for him to take the couch trying my best to be steel tough and he refused. My back being all messed up from earlier in the week is not making the 300lb emotional slug squeezing my heart hurt less, the nausea just wont go away. But a mother does not show, does not tell. I cannot freak out my own kids, they should not be subjected to the emotional showdown and wreck of the parents. I pray they are as blissfully unaware as they look.
Its not all that bad, I know others have it worse. I’ve cried myself to sleep from anger, stress, hurt, and jealousy. I wonder about my own self and what I am worth, but God keeps me strong. I try not to cave in, I cannot have anxiety attacks again. That was the old me, more than ten years ago. Hiccupping sobs, red eyes, stuffed nose, and vomiting followed by shaking, more tears, thoughts of darkness with no one to hug you. Sometimes that little lie of “it’s all going to be okay” is much more convincing is someone else says it.
Its the emotional drain that is taking its toll on my soul. I question almost everything on these days, and then regret or forget the instant its over. Maybe I need to remember and think more carefully with a much clearer mind.
I count towards a 100, or 1000, and still I don’t know what to do. How can I function on less than five hours sleep. I’m just glad I don’t operate heavy machinery. Making breakfast alone was exhausting. But I refuse to raise my voice or get mad at my gorgeous kids. Its not their fault mommy is breaking inside.
I bleed, I bleed and I keep breathing past the hurt. My heart, my life, my breathe is all his right now. I love him. I need him, maybe that’s wrong. I don’t know if I even make sense. I wish my reflection in the mirror showed how I look inside. I hurt. I want to keep crying, dig into my own dark hole, and try to heal.
These chaotic thoughts ramble, and I breathe and take the next logical, reasonable step. Make the food, clean the house, get the uniforms ready, and breathe. Breathing is so hard. It’s nothing big. I feel too much.