It’s 5:40. I walk to my car, get in and sigh. I remind myself that I have a loving husband, a beautiful daughter, and a home. I try to shake off the weariness and the crushing sense of loneliness. I am not alone. I have loved ones. They depend on me.
It’s 5:56. I sit in the car outside our home, lost in thought. 4 more minutes and then you have to go inside. He needs a break. I chant that to myself while staring at the clock, daring it to change a number.
6:03. I walk in, plaster a smile on my face that I know doesn’t reach my eyes, focus my attention on my little one. My heart sings. She is so damn beautiful. A miracle. Husband senses something is wrong and moves to give me a kiss. I oblige and pat him on the back. My moves feel…wooden. We proceed to focus on her for the next two hours.
10:30. I lie in bed, scared. Alone. No play partners for me tonight. No pervy men to occupy my time. No Dom to squelch my fears. I’m tired but unable to sleep. Thinking about my late aunt and her fight with breast cancer. The image of her taking her last breath runs over and over in my mind. My big breasts are tender due to my autoimmune disease and I accept the throbbing pain. Wonder if it’ll turn into something sinister. Wonder if I’ll die like her.
Husband is in the living room playing his game. He’d like for me to hang with him but I hate watching TV and his voice is like nails on a chalkboard tonight.
During the day, around others, I laugh and joke and make them feel good. It makes me happy to make others happy. I used to feel the same way about Husband and his happiness.
But late at night, when I have no one to sincerely talk to and keep me company…this is when I’m weakest. In this cold dark room no one can see or hear me cry. I strip off my armor and openly bleed. I’ve been doing it for years- crying silently into a pillow. It’s habitual and perfunctory. Get the tears out and move on. No one cares. And that’s not a pity party. It’s just simple truth.