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 all 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 out at the neighbours. 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.

I want to sleep on your small stomach Mommy.

A few days ago...well, it has been more than a few days, someone told me that I ate and ate and grew fat. It is a story I have heard over the last couple of years.

Did I take offence?

No. I do not take offence about my weight anymore. I am fortunate enough to own a mirror and eyes to see every morning and evening as I do my affirmations.

My biggest worry about weight has always been not being able to run up the stairs without breathing heavily, feeling faint and not fitting into things I like.

In the last couple of years, I have run up the stairs, felt faint, fallen down, failed to fit into my favourite dress and now, my offspring thinks playing with my stomach is a game.
"Mommy, can I play with your big stomach? "

I say no.

He jumps on my bed, lifts my shirt and sits his head on my stomach for a few minutes as though listening for something, then he starts drumming on it with his hands.

It was annoying at first, because I really did have quite a belly, not the flexible one that belly dancers have, but that one with extra flab hanging around smoking a joint and counting sheep.

On top of the belly was the arms! Aaargghhhh, that is the worst. I worried, even when I was small, that I might be one of those people with upper arms that can do a dance even with no music. Now here I was, loose flesh touching my waist and doing a happy jiggle at every turn.

I struggled I tell you.

These stages of grief, well, they apply here too.

I had to explain to myself that I did not just eat my way into fat.

I did eat. Yes I did.
But that is not all I did.
For three years, I had a swollen knee which would give way randomly.
Imagine walking and minding your own business and next thing you know, your knee just seems to crack and you're on the floor. Very little pain, just a knee that would swell at any attempt to exercise or just land you on your bum.
So I read about it, because that is what I do, read about my fears and situations.
The gym instructor after a few sessions suggested I wear a knee brace. I wore one. Ugly red thing peeping through my clothes. A friend visiting from the US gave me theirs. It gave me a bit of relief, enough anyway to start my new workout with an instructor who gave attention to my troubles.
My leg is great now, and there I am, spending the evenings I can trying to clean up the years of fat sitting om my stomach.
In the eighth week, I was minding my business when the offspring crept up on me.
"Can I sleep on your small stomach mommy?"
"Sure!...Wait a minute, did you say small stomach?"
"Small stomach mommy."
I had not realised it! The stomach had reduced so much that he noticed too!
I am a little sad. I asked someone why the offspring was very attached to my stomach. She said it probably reminded them of their first home and that it was a bonding moment for them.
So while my stomach pr.......Edit - I left this story unfinished like so many others and no I have no idea what I wanted to say. I wrote this in 2020, May 4th and 12:04....gosh....this was many years ago. Today, I publish this incomplete story - 2024.

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 be 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 that, 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.