One Morning I Woke Up Different

One day about 19 years ago, if I had to guess an approximate time, I met this woman who shared her story with me. She sat still for a few minutes, eyes closed, breathing slowly, and then I noticed the tears as they began to fall slowly down her face. I gave her all the time she needed at that moment, handed her tissue as I sat there speechless and trying not to cry as well. My heart broke for her yet she hadn’t uttered a word. It felt as if time stopped still for her to compose herself and so the story began.

Weary & Wounded feeling defeated, what am I supposed to do? Fighting the emotions that seem to surface whenever they desire. Hidden behind a closed door and four walls, heart racing, head pounding and tears constantly falling. Tired of feeling as if I’m this overly emotional being with little to no control, a divergent woman with no explanation of what’s to be expected. I wish I had the answers or to at least have in my possession a magical book to open and acquire all I need at this moment.

Often asking myself, how do I hold it together in front of others as to not be questioned periodically? Not sleeping, appetite has diminished, my throat is dry, hands tight, heart racing, talking silently in my head and attempting to look normal. How does one find that inner peace as to not succumb to the pain every month? Nothing in particular triggers the feeling when they occur. My instinct is to shut myself off from the world as much as possible, close all the blinds, lock the doors and stay in my safe place. It feels like a preparation strategy, but preparing for what, how long am I supposed to continue this mundane process? My heart feels as if its stuck in the pit of my throat waiting to let out a massive scream. Even if I’m at work and someone peeps their head in to speak, I quickly turn away to hide my eyes. I now have this notion if I allow others to see my eyes directly they will figure out my secret.

Deep breaths, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, tear after tear, swollen eyes, nausea has set in and doesn’t seem to want to dissipate. Body tense and oh so COLD!!!! I dare not look in the mirror because in my mind the image looking back has that reflection which leads to the question of WHY CAN’T YOU FIGURE THIS OUT, WHY CAN’T YOU BE NORMAL, WHY IS IT BACK AGAIN. So many whys and I have no answers that would justify the hurt look in her eyes. Her soul appears to be at that fragile stage, the stage where you fight the thoughts within your mind, pray and ask God to please give you a clear understanding, strength while going through and most of all please don’t let anyone see me in this state of mind.

One way of semi coping is to turn the hot water on in the shower and watch the steam engulf the room, this is the cloud i need to carry me away if only for 45 minutes. Feeling the heat hit my skin is a welcoming distraction, piercing my body with an intense sensation, washing away everything. At this instance it’s a chance to grasp at some sort of idea that it’s OK, it’s almost over, just hold on my friend, hold on. Standing in a frozen state until the water becomes cold and even then, the coldness doesn’t bother me enough to snap back to reality.

Up to a certain point, I speculate one good thing is I don’t have to deal with hearing the voices this time around placing blame on me, telling me I will never be free, I will never get the answers, go cut yourself and release the pain, get in your car and drive into oncoming traffic, better yet just wait until everyone is sleeping and walk away into the field, surely you know no one will miss you…. The silence of being in my space alone or in my car gives me a calming sense of peace. Just when I think I’ve released all the tears, more find their way to escape.

As time has passed, she takes a deep breath and looks directly in my eyes. I can see the hurt, pain, the longing for answers, a cure. This is what she says, “what I can is it hurts not knowing the reasons behind the emotional tunnels that sporadically decide to visit. All days aren’t bad and I’m able to maneuver through. However, when it’s been 2 to 3 months since I’ve had an emotional unstable occurrence, this is when the difficulty to maintain some sort of normalcy clashes into my being with such force it has me walking around in a daze. “

This the point I look up to acknowledge everything spoken. Guess what though, there is no one sitting in the room. All along it was ME, I was the one beginning to share my story with the world.

To be continued……………

Monica