My mind is a minefield of dark thoughts skipping randomly around the mundane facts of the day.
Wake. Shower. Dress. Breakfast. Packing lunches. Rounding up the kids and all the detritis we think we need for the next 10 hours. Dumping it all in the car, which needs to be cleaned. Drive. Drop. Drive. Work. Drive. More cajolling, this time dinner and baths and teeth brushing. To bed. Dragging heels. Three books, no waiting. No time for lolligaging and dilly-dallying.
No patience, either.
There is always crying. Always something that hurts somebody's feelings. There is always one more thing I could do even after I've said THIS IS THE LAST TIME I'M ...
That's been the bare bones of my day every weekday since I can remember.
The heaviness of the world around me; not necessarily MY experience but still MY WORLD weighs on me. Sadness seems everywhere. Hope clings to it all, even still.
My thoughts linger on horrible things I never want to face. I can't turn away. I can't shut them off. Instead I shut myself down for a while.
Worry. Worry. Worry. I can't talk about something that may never happen. I can only worry.
Worry.
And wake. Shower. Dress. Breakfast. Packing lunches. Rounding up the kids and all the detritis we think we need for the next 10 hours. Dumping it all in the car, which needs to be cleaned. Drive. Drop. Drive. Work. Drive. More cajolling, this time dinner and baths and teeth brushing. To bed. Dragging heels. Three books, no waiting. No time for lolligaging and dilly-dallying.
Truth is, I've always been this way. I've always felt my heart race and stop. I've always held my breath, squeezed my eyes shut and closed my hands over my ears, hoping to shut out the world.
There's so much misery in it; so much to fear and fret.
I eat in silence; the kids, already finished, are tearing through the house making joyful noise. I wish I could join in. I can't even muster a smile.
Across from me he sits in quiet, too.
Looking at the kids. At me.
He reaches his hand over and covers mine; "I just wanted you to know I am happy, and that I love you."
Friday, September 05, 2008
Why I married him
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8 comments:
Awwww!
Seriously. He scored major brownie points for that.
And he cooks and makes a mean margarita!
this has me in tears. just the right words at the right time. that's love.
This is so much like me and my guy it's scary. I know that's a silly comment but I just couldn't help myself, not today. Thank you for everything you write.
Big J is just an awesome guy!
good, good husband.
oh jed. good lord.
beautifully written, too.
perfect. way to go, Jed.
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