Up front and honest… I feel REALLY SCARED to write this out. I feel vulnerable and raw and exposed.
It has been about 60 hours since I got that phone call which stopped my heart and sent me spiraling through fear and nausea. I am angry. So very, very angry. and confused. and angry. I feel infinitely and seemingly unendingly tired. I feel like I could lay down right now and never wake up. I am pushing myself to go forward, pushing and pulling because if I don’t, I fear I will get stuck here. My head feels like it is full of cottonballs soaked in acid and interspersed with anvils. Breathing is difficult and exhausting. My shoulders and back of my neck are caught in a vice grip of death and I have hot pain shooting from my lower back and down my legs.
Today, as I sit here at my desk wondering what I am supposed to do, I am scared. I used to be so proficient at everything and now I feel like I know nothing. I want to curl up and sleep, yet fear that will be a disservice to myself. I am angry that my daughter is startled at every loud sound now. I am angry that he broke his word to me. I am angry that I believed and believed and believed and… still… it happened. I am angry that his mother wounded him so violently and so deeply that I fear he will never surface as a healthy human being. I am angry that my daughter was scared. I am proud that she was brave.
In the instant that I was dashing out to the car, frantic and literally running to get her although I was a good half hour away, I was surprised that I was dialing 911 before I even realized it. To my detriment, I have usually wanted to handle things myself. This time I couldn’t. I was too far away. My daughter needed me right then and I was too far away. She was alone, fighting off a beast and her mommy wasn’t there to help. I feel angry about that.
I feel angry that this situation superceded my life. I feel angry that my commitment to ease and flow showed up LIKE THIS. i feel angry that while I am choosing differently for my life there are still others who are choosing to remain the same and it is directly effecting my life. I feel angry that HIS decisions, HIS behaviors are pouring over into my life. I feel angry that I was in a shelter. I feel angry I had to sit for ONE FUCKING HOUR at midnight and fill out forms before they would let us go to bed. I feel angry that I had to worry about if we were going to get lice. I feel angry we had to find sheets and blankets before we could make the bed before we could go to sleep. I feel angry about so many things about my experience at the shelter and the reasons we were there.
On Friday, I felt drained in sadness and fear. I hated that I was going to a shelter. I hated that I was hearing Marcus say, “I want to die I want to die I want to die” as he called me in desperation, feeling like a trapped wild bear, gnawing off his foot to save his own life. I am so fucking angry that this man was SO FUCKING WRONGED by his mother that he cannot see through to the light. I am so angry that she will never acknowledge the damage she has caused and release him from his bondage. And I am SO AWARE that there does come a time when an adult has to stand up and be an adult. I fear that he will die before that time comes for him.
I rose with the dawn this morning, feeling beaten and groggy, as though it had been me he had battled with. I have held space of calm for so many people this weekend. I have been an anchor for Marcus so he did not pull that trigger and end his life. I have held onto trembling little girls while they cried. I have comforted them when they were afraid to feel. I have helped them dance and scream and wail and cry and move their little bodies in the hopes that all the energy of that night will not get lodged in there deep to haunt them in the darkness. I have talked him off the ledge and into the light of reason. I have held her up when she couldn’t hold herself up. I have been strong for everyone.
And now I feel so very weak. and alone. and tired.
And I am sad that… here I am again… alone.
