Moments From A Breakdown

"MOMENTS FROM A BREAKDOWN"


Where does one even begin to describe the absorption of lifetimes of pain? When there’s so many words & feelings you simply cannot put them together long enough to form sentences… The Darkness overcomes and you’re within its shroud. Covered completely. Seems like there’s no way out of it. No zipper; no buttons; no escape hatches. It smothers you, and it feels like you can never breath again. And The Darkness lives, even in the daytime.

You cry tears everyday. {Now included.} And sometimes you cannot stop them. You cannot regain control of yourself. Panic & anxiety sets in, and leaves you feeling more helpless than before. Simple right? Just stop crying. I’m here to tell you it doesn’t happen that way, and couldn’t happen that easily. Even if I want to, I cannot stop crying right this very moment. Welcome to one of my breakdowns.

Lest we forget to discuss the guilts within… Guilt from childhood. Guilt from not being the best daughter while my mother was sick as I got older. Guilt from burying her, rather than inter her. Guilt from not being able to contribute anything right now to the events of September 11, 2001. Guilt from not reaching the goals in life I have or have had. Guilt from not being able to do everything everyday for everybody. Guilt from currently not working, and bringing in the level of salary we are used to. Guilt from not being strong enough right now to function. Guilt about being afraid to go back to work in the same office with the same people. Guilt about maybe losing a pension for our future. Guilt about not being the ‘same’ woman that Barbara fell in love with. Guilt about not being able to lose any weight; and feeling as if I’m being inflated. Guilt about not having money for rent & bills. Guilt about still wanting to drink kahlua. Or something… Guilt about not providing Barbara with what she would like or need right now. Guilt about not being able to get even the littlest of life’s pleasures – cheaper bread; cheaper soap… Guilt about accepting money from family & friends… Guilt about all of that and more. Guilt about not being able to give more to Barbara. And to the rest of my/our family. Just guilt about everything. It compliments The Darkness, and grows within its macabre protection.

It is like a shell. You know you’re in there. But, it’s such an effort to get out of it. To move even some of the garbage aside. But you can’t. There’s simply too much. It’s all too heavy… You’re too heavy. And the weight only adds to that, too.

Somewhere in here, there is still a sparkling twirler who wants to dance away the disco nights in her stilettos and pretty dresses. The self who would do a show on a dime. The self-photographed body is still in there - only there’s a lot more body now. The mirror is no longer my friend. And I cannot gaze into it that often because I can’t see the self as I know the self. As I was the self. I am a different self now, both outside & in. Not fashionable as before. Not strong like before. Not fearless as my younger years. Not energetic like the entertainer. I’m so lost in there…

I would absolutely love to be able to even put on a pair of heels now. Health has not been good to me of recent years. Physically, I have venus insufficiency and bronchial asthma. I have also become prone to migraines.

And now I cry everyday.

At some point, there are tears of some kind. Perhaps only a moment. At other times, it can last more than an hour. Sometimes I need a little help stopping the uncontrollable sobbing. The weeping from the deepest place one can weep from. Tears flow, your heart races and your head hurts. And the sorrow & grimace grows stronger. Every single thing joins together in one encompassing shroud and overwhelms you.

I am so very grateful that my wife, Barbara, is exactly the kind of wife anyone would wish for. She is nuturing and supportive and caring and beautiful and funny and… She is loving, as I have never felt love before. She has blessed me with a family I had never imagined actually existed. I am thankful for all of them because they have truly made me feel a part of their family. Mom even said to me recently that I belong to her as much as Barbara does… {Tears are flowing…} How wonderful was that to hear? I know my mother is happy that someone is caring for me. Someone is with me. And someone is loving me. Unfortunately, she did not have a relationship with anyone, and not much of an adult relationship with me… There’s some of that guilt creeping through, see?

Everything is connected somehow. All feelings intercept other feelings, and incite inner explosions. Tears flow for everything. Everyday.

I have also undertaken serious efforts for psychological treatment. Perhaps it is a medium I should have pursued on my own long long ago. But youth does not provide wisdom or foresight… This is a chance for me to perhaps feel a little less heavy. A chance not to dread "When October Goes". A chance to dissect myself, hopefully to learn more. To learn how to put myself back together a little bit so I can at least function like a person again. So I can function without panic attacks. So I can be a fun & functional wife again for My Barbara. And, so we can still have a future together, because right now, that’s the only thing carrying me forward. I can’t leave her. Not now, anyway. I want too many more years with her here. We are 2 of the luckiest people in time to have found each other, and I don’t wish to waste one moment. I need to hang on to her, in order to hang on to me right now…

Am I afraid to find out what’s inside? Most definitely. I do not have a fine family legacy to share with Barbara, as she has with me. I cannot offer her an honoured lineage. I do love & honor my mom(d), nana(d), Uncle Dickie, and cousins Susan, Rick & Jill. Beyond them, I do not wish to know. It’s too ugly. Too frightening, even though I have not been a child for years. I am deathly afraid of what there is to learn about what’s within. And about my family history. I am scared to death of what I may know to be truths from my own childhood which are buried in the rubble of my life. But there is a monster within that has too much power now, and I must learn how to overcome my personal demons within. I must keep fighting, but I feel so weak right now. This self-dissection is more draining than ever I could imagine. But it’s also necessary right now so I can get my life back. And give my life back to My Barbara…

I have no idea if this will be a living essay, or a chapter in a larger work. Either way, I need to document myself. I don’t know why; I just do. At times, I record my breakdowns on the dictaphone. Sound effects are much different than printed words… Prosperity purposes, I suppose. Every writer/creator/visionary likes to think their words will touch people. Their lives; their hearts…

Perhaps I’ll will my works to Emerson.. There’s a lot of women writers who have graduated from there… Will my works ever be read? Will I ever find a literary agent? Can I ever sell my creativity? Will my poems ever be torn apart in literature classes for their deeper meanings & symbolisms? Have I yet made a place in time with my words? Am I too, an Emily Dickinson or Gertrude Stein? I give birth to my words; there is pain & pushing involved in the flow of ink, as my blood. The words are poured out from deep within… And in that logic, my words are my children, and will carry my perceptions. My thoughts & feelings. My confusions and my confessions. My struggles and trials and tribulations. And I hope that I can leave a nicer legacy than which I have been born into. I think I’m a better person than I was before… But now I just have to be a stronger person, too.