There are some days, when I want to stay in bed, I want to burrow into my pillows and inhale the comfort of my blankets.
I want to call in to the precinct and inform them I am taking a sick day,
But I don't… I never do.
I am not a person who will lie in bed and let the feelings I feel knock me out and take control over me.
Some days I do want to give in and say that I just give up because it feels as if I do not have the energy or the drive to fight back anymore, I am just so tired…
When clouds gather over the city, dull and miserable, I feel that clench of exhaustion; the raindrops pelt the windows before the anger of the thunder growls, low and threatening announcing that the lightning will soon streak across the sky, presenting all that I want to hide from.
Under the covers now I am doing just that, hiding.
These are the moments when I am afraid… when I let this fear wash over me… it's dark and at the same time I feel safe because I am able to succumb to these debilitating emotions and no one will ever know.
Burrowed into my bedclothes I feel the tears, cold, stabbing my eyelids so I open them and blink… they fall.
I feel as if the tears are knives slicing me open.
God, it hurts!
The tears are coming from that place inside that only I have access to, it's too dangerous even for me so I cannot allow anyone else here.
That place is everything I cannot describe.
It is every shattered piece of my glass shield I could not fix… cannot fix.
The rumble of thunder startles me, my heart beats faster and the tears lacerate longer and longer stretches of skin.
To get through this I must explain where every emotion comes from…
Fear, which comes from my confusion and my anxiety because there is no one to protect me and keep me safe from harm… there is no one to feel the fire when I crash and burn.
My confusion arises because I cannot comprehend what I am feeling nor what I am supposed to do with these feelings.
The anxiety is all of this, comes from all of this…
Because I do not know what is really wrong.
Does it all come from these seven years? Or does it come from the past 42 years?
These past seven years I have seen Elliot in every role a man has the knowledge to play, and then some.
But it has been different lately, I do not know which role he is playing and what role I am supposed to be assuming.
He doesn't talk to me anymore… before he used to… before I found comfort knowing that I could read deep in-between the lines in his face.
Now I do not know whether it is wise to duck from his blows, fight back, or diffuse the situations we experience.
I used to know him so well…
These past 42 years have been equally, really more so, tumultuous… a constant roller coaster on which I'm never certain when the next drop is going to come.
Tonight I am at the peak of a drop.
Everything has built up, pushing me to the edge and now I am waiting to barrel down the tracks…
At the bottom is the ring of fire I do my best to avoid but never do.
From under my blankets and high above the depths of the dark place I am in the storm reaches its zenith, its most violent stage.
A dangerous bark of thunder and I am crashing…
The ground rushes up to meet me…
Cloud to ground lightning sparks a fire…
And I am burning… the coaster car catching the left side of the ring of fire…