Heavy

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Note: It’s not often that I publish a serious post. But this is all I have to give. Maybe tomorrow the funny will come.

I’m not okay.

I mean, on the outside I seem fine. I get up. I play the role of mother, wife, daughter, friend, writer…

I move about the day seamlessly, gliding from one event to the other, as if on autopilot.

Focused.

Numb.

Sad.

Heartbroken.

I lie. I lie a lot. I act like everything is OK. I tell people what they want to hear. I tell everyone that I’m OK. That everything will be OK. I lie to myself.

On the inside, I’m crumbling.

Crumbling.

Sinking.

Drowning.

Dying.

And the worst part…I can’t even talk about it.

Me. The person who gets on the Internet and talks about her vagina. HER VAGINA. And I can’t talk about this.

It’s painful. It hurts like hell.

It’s confusing. It’s heart wrenching. It’s very real.

And yet, there are no words.

I can’t make myself say the words.

For me, humor has always been my armor. I can make anything funny. I’ve worked every angle of this, and I can’t find the funny.

The only thing I see before me is despair.

Earlier, I sat in the bathtub. For over two hours. Hoping maybe the sadness would wash away. I lay with my head under the water, and listened to the quiet. Begging the quiet to comfort me. It never came. Instead, I kept having to refill with hot water because the water would get so cold that I would begin to shiver.

What’s that song by Lifehouse? The one that says….”I’m falling apart…I’m barely breathing…I’m damaged at best.”

This is where I find myself.

No. Tommy hasn’t left me.

No. I haven’t lost a child. Or a parent. Or a friend.

But I have lost.

And I am sad.

And I can’t tell you why.

Because I’m ashamed.

I’m in a boat. And someone has fallen overboard. And I can’t save her. I’m stuck in the boat. Alone. And unable to help. I reach my hand out as far as I can. But it’s not far enough.

Because she has to help herself. And I have to save me.

The universe…she is one cruel bitch.

I’m running. I’m running to you. I’m almost there. I reach out to you. And then you disappear. Right before my eyes. I fall to my knees. Begging “No, NO, please don’t go.”

But you’re gone.

And I’m here. In the boat. Floating in the ocean. In the middle of nowhere. Alone.

I know how to fix it. I do. I know how to make it better. But I can’t.

Because I have no idea where to start.

Ironic, I know.

I look into your eyes. And I see. I see what you see.

I have failed.

I have failed you.

I have failed you in such an astronomical way that my chest caves in when I think of it. I can’t breathe.

The rain. It’s never ending.

And I’m still in the boat.

And you’re still without a life preserver.

I’m not okay.

But I will be. And so will you.

God I hope it’s soon.