I wear a facade, a face that never changes, always smiling, always painted on, and forever wearing the mask of yes I’m okay…
I try hard to convince myself and others that everything is fine, I am fine, life is fine, the world is fine, but it isn't and I know deep down I am faking it, but it's safe I thought to wear this mask, this veil that prevents others from seeing my pain, from seeing how much I really hurt, how hard it is to keep going every morning.
I fell at work the other day, on automatic pilot, moving boxes I tripped and hit the inside edge of the metal door to the kitchen I had propped open breaking a rib, realizing that I could not bend or lift anymore I had to call the company nurse, go to the worker comps Dr and was put on light duty, 5 lbs. or less on lifting, no reaching all a joke really but I have tried, working last Tuesday and Wednesday and this Monday - Wednesday until I could work no more and took time off.
I am not one to ask for help, I am one who just does and gets it done alone when needed which is quite often. My staff, my girls, have been wonderful and I am learning to ask while also learning they care and want to be led, want to learn more, want me to have a voice, to teach and I feel I will continue doing so, I hope, at least, I do continue to do so.
But I have also discovered just how alone I have been for a long time, the husband who was broken never much help, the son still at home helping when asked but really at 20 years old do I still need to ask? Shouldn't he before leaving to go hang with friends ask what I need for him to do? I had to stay on top of him yesterday to get my new bed put together he kept trying to take shortcuts but with my help we got it done and it is wonderful and I thought I would be more excited to have my first ever new bed but it is just a bed, an object and it does not replace love.
I miss my son, I miss Joey who would have come to help and we would have laughed and teased each other and it would have been fun, not a chore that needed done but a fun thing for mother and son to accomplish together. I miss his laugh, his teasing, his voice, his love....
I miss him and all though I hide it well I will never ever again be that same woman I was while he was alive.
I make stupid mistakes and I talk to myself like all the bad things that happen to me must be because I deserve them to happen, that I have somewhere in time done a deed that calls for me to continue to be punished…but then I talk to myself and think maybe it isn’t about me at all but about those around me and I have no control, nothing to do with all this except for the fact that in life shit happens to everyone, not only me but everyone.
I am trying to sort through things, trying to write again, trying to deal with the unending pain of a broken rib and being alone in the world, trying hard to not let fear or apathy take over and change who I was, who I am, who I hope I still can be.
It is almost like I need to reinvent me, the woman who has married to two men who mentally abused her, who let her know how worthless she was, even when she knew better. I need to be gentle with her and lead her back to the world, in all its beauty and the ugliness too, telling her all the while she will be okay again, she will laugh again, she will always cry for her boys, but she will really laugh again someday even if she spends the rest of her life alone.
I don’t know that I will leave this up, I feel naked now when I write, maybe because I haven’t written in so long, maybe because I just don’t know who I am anymore, maybe because I think people will find me whiney and stupid.
I have a long road ahead of me I think ….