Before it's too late...

You know that self reflection? That self focus that gives you a few minutes of escape from what is before you, your person's lifeless body, and allows you to focus on yourself, allows you to ask, how you are so lucky to still be here, allows you to think you need to change gears and express gratitude more, allows you to start planning a more focused life, allows you to question life and decide the best thing is to do away with it all, drink because tomorrow is not promised, allows you to think, do, believe, hope, escape...because whats infront of you, is not what you want to see.

Martha died. 

Martha, my reference story for high school. She died. A whatsapp message popped up on the group and a few minutes later when it registered, the group was littered with RIP. Because thats how we are concluding things now. RIP. It's real emotions sitting on your shoulders, causing you to throw your head back and just scream on the inside because why are you making noise in the office. Maybe you're getting up off your desk and just walking around because, what is this? How should you even engage with it? RIP. Someone is going to post something totally unrelated in the group that breaks the shock momentarily before a late comer sees the announcement and restarts the RIP chain. Another brave one will break that one too. 

I have tried several times to change the group picture. Maggie, its been what, a year? But I am not brave. And so it goes with death. The RIP's have stopped now. The body was buried and those who need to handle your affairs are having to face that everyday. The rest of us, shocked, then reflecting, acknowledging, then slowly separating ourselves from that one connection - not entirely, there are always pockets of reminders and connections here and there. We have moved on to the other things life is throwing at us, to handle them and keep going. We have forgotten that just the other day, we were reflecting on why we are still here, what we want to change, how grateful we should be and how focused we will be going forward. 

written in lockdown, published never - covid19

A slap feels like a mixture of heat and ice hitting your cheek at a magnificent speed at just the right time. Your head moves with it because the speed and weight of the hand just drag the face along, sometimes, the entire body. And then, you're on the floor, your hands holding your face by reflex and also because another slap might be coming.

Worse than the slap though, is the silence. The silence that follows. It feels like shame that he let his hands get dirty, but sometimes, it feels like a threat.

Today was one of those days.

The boys were running everyone mad, jumping on chairs, writing on walls, giving the dogs endless reasons to bark, fighting and crying, asking a dozen questions and running back and forth from the kitchen. This food we bought for the lockdown, it won't last another two days.

When you spend your days around the noise and activity, you get used to it.
If you are not used to it, it gets to you really badly. The different sounds at the same time, from every corner of your space, it becomes more than many people can take. And so, you snap. That is what I think happened.

One minute I was on the phone speaking to my mother, the next, I was on the floor.
I vaguely remember him speaking to me but I had been preoccupied. The child had been burning a fever for two hours and my attention had shifted, I was worried. No one was going to drive out and so I called my mother.  My mother was asking if I was wiping her with a wet warm cloth, I had barely opened my mouth to respond when the phone flew out of my hands, seconds later, something hit me and I fell.

He did not say anything. He walked back and turned the volume of the TV up.
The boys were quiet.
I saw them file out slowly and knew they would spend the next couple of hours hiding. Every time there was some kind of confrontation, they found safety where they could get it. I did not blame them. Lately, it seemed like everyday, but now more than ever, for just the slightest of things or even nothing at all.

When I picked up my phone, screen shattered, my mother called.

It is the stress of the times mother.
Are you sure you did not upset him?
But how could I have done that? I was on the phone with you!
You know, you shouldn't complain. At least he spends his days at home now.
Maybe he shouldn't.

A deep sadness - that's what it is!

 I finally know the words that describe this feeling that has overcome me for the last couple of days. 

A deep sadness. 

Nothing profound, just a sadness that started in my feet, if that ever were possible, moved around in my stomach for days, if you can believe that, caught my chest and hang onto it, swinging back and forth like a pendulum, swung its way to grab a hold of my shoulders and dragged them down like one who carries sacks of gravel daily, and now, it sits on my neck. At night, I lie awake, not a new phenomenon, but one that comes in a new form. My awakeness is matched with alertness, a tingling that i cannot place, restlessness that holds my nose and causes me to sit up every soften to breathe, headaches at the back, the front, the centre and finally, a weariness. I want to speak to no one. I want to see only my child. The patience I usually exercise even when I have sworn that I shall not suffer fools is gone. I am not snapping at anyone, I am simply refusing to acknowledge them. People are tiring me. Very easily, very often. 

I had thought that it was the need for rest, perhaps I needed time off work. On the last trip, I was joking around even as my feet failed me, I was dosing away even as my brain poked me, I was walking about with my camera even as my heart told me that something was not right. A lot of grief around me these last couple of weeks, could that be part of it? Perhaps, our body processes in many ways. But no, I have felt grief in my bones before. I didn't feel like this, tired and just done, so done, so over everything, needing just.....nothing.

A lunch hour break at work is an important one, saved for a walk that allows for the free flow of tears. Except, there are no tears. Just the sounds that come before them, and that heaving and heaviness as though something is coming out - but its not. It's buried in there because there is no way out. It has not been addressed. It's not like ignoring a pimple, it will be better for you if you do, leaves no mark when left to make its exit at its own time. It's more like ignoring a cancerous growth. It will grow and chances are, it will grow into something ugly.

I have no sense of what it is I wanted to get out, this is probably one of those posts to vent where your vent won't get a response that makes a bad situation worse, it will just sit there, and be out of your system. You feel less heavy and allow for more reflection into your now and yesterday to help you get up tomorrow. One day at a time. 

Today

Today, a little more than yesterday, I admit,
I have been beaten, beaten and emptied of all ability to reach for hope
I feel stretched, my patience squeezed out same way you put garlic in foil, heat it and squeeze out the juice. They burned me until I was soft enough and then they tore me to shreds.

It shouldn't be like this.
No one should ever use, use and discard another human being.
The times are hard on us all, my conscience says this is the best time to show compassion
The devil though, lives among men

It is time. I know it is time.
I wonder though, where do we go from here and where does the new journey begin?
Hearts can fail, courage can play hide and seek
Hope...It is right there but I cannot reach it.

How are you holding up?
There is shame in the most honest answer now
How dare you steal the pity from the ones who badly need it
Who's to say that we do not all need attention, a shoulder and an ear that will not judge your truth?

I am not holding up at all.
I am tired
I am angry
I am frustrated
I am disappointed
I am worried.

To be Held

If the pieces of my heart should scatter at some point today
Know that I tried to keep them together.

There is a strange sensation in the core parts of my being
I feel exhaustion and emptiness,
But it is not the kind that takes away the ability to do
It is the kind that tears away at the layers of tape and allows the broken heart to crumble
My hands keep close to my side, perhaps there is something they can do
My chest tightens at each heart beat, it is afraid

I cannot remember what happened
Yesterday seemed like a day as any other
This morning, I stared at my phone and chose the blanket
Since then, it has been like this
Movements in the corridor to nowhere and back
No sense of time or action

Perhaps it is catching up with me,
The aloneness that I choose
It feels like it has acknowledged me
And now wants to show me what it means to truly be alone
I am afraid. Perhaps I lied to myself,
Perhaps I need to feel again, to be held.