Saturday, May 15, 2010

Edge

You ever feel like you are this close to losing it? Like you are teetering precariously out there on a limb, waiting for it to snap at any moment? Like at any second you could shatter into a million pieces? Like every single time you turn on the radio, there is some song playing that conjures up all kinds of emotions? Every time that someone asks how you are doing, you say that you are okay or alright or fine when you are anything but?

I've been feeling that way for months.

I never know if I'm going to wake up on a given morning and have a good day. If it's going to be a positive day filled with joy and happiness, healthy distractions from everything else. Or if it's going to be a day filled with reminders of reality, of fear and anger and sadness. I never know.

I never know if tonight will be a night I can sleep, or if it will be one that keeps me staring at the ceiling for hours on end. I never know if I'll be up with worry and thoughts and the inevitable heartburn that accompanies my stress. I never know.

If it wasn't for the fact that I have a very good reason for being on this edge, I'd say that I'm starting to lose my mind a bit. That I need professional help. For surely, it's not normal to be this unhinged. Particularly for someone like me, who once upon a time used to pride herself on being such a grounded and balanced person.

Used to be.

The thing is, to most people, I still am that grounded and balanced person. The mom who somehow gets it all done. I put on a great show. I say that I'm fine and other people believe it. Most other people. There are those who see through my disguise. Who know that though I'm a good liar, I'm not a great one.

I try to put on the show. I try to keep it hidden. I try.

First on that list of people who see the real me is my husband. For better or worse, right? We've been through some crazy ups and downs together. Personal tragedies and triumphs. Unflattering moments and amazing experiences. These past few months have been hard. Hard for me, sure. But hard for him too. Hard enough for him to deal with it all himself. Plus, he has to live with me.

He has to deal with not ever knowing what kind of day today will be. He has to know that sometimes I need to take a nap when he is home in the middle of the day because it is easier for me to sleep when the sun is up. He has to let me cry at stupid movies and shows and songs and commercials because they brought to the surface some emotion I'd been suppressing. He has to be there to watch the kids when I can't cry in front of them and have to leave. He has to know that though nothing seems right in my world right now, I'm doing the best I can.

He has to know that I'm out there, so close to the edge I can feel the wind rising up from below. And he knows that he needs to be there to pull me back in.

I love him. I love him because he does all the things he has to do. Even if he doesn't want to. He does. He knows that I need him right now. And he loves me enough to let me need him the way I do.

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