Friday, October 18, 2013

Interior monologue.



I am unhappy. I have been unhappy long enough for it to bleed into everything that once had meaning in my life. It’s changed my work, my friendships, my marriage, my relationship with my parents.. I can’t help myself anymore. I am perplexed by this intense sense of  purposelessness. I caught myself the other day simply pinching myself. I felt nothing and my crimson skin was the only proof that I, indeed, was pinching myself. I look at my new baby girl when I want to  experience any hint of emotion. She is probably the only person who seems to elicit at least a slight surge of emotion. But it evades me quickly. I slip so quickly, so imperceptibly into numbness. I have  been unhappy for far too long.

I can’t describe what I feel – it’s inaccessible to me. I have gone past the stage of alarm. I have gone past the stage of asking for help. I have gone past the stage of trying to get my husband or  parents to take care of me. I just feel a lull in my heart. I feel that this is it. It’s over. Something has given up inside me. It’s not like I will want to die. It’s more like.. well, it’s more like  existing because I don’t even have a strong enough emotion to push myself over the edge. I am just going through the motions. And it’s hurting people around me. I notice the worry in my mom’s curled lips.  She doesn’t cope well with helplessness. So she takes it out on my husband. I notice wells of sadness in his otherwise perfect eyes. He doesn’t like being disappointed a second time in marriage. So he shuts  down. Two people who have shut down. Even the baby cannot hold back the constant avalanche of painful silence.

My heart has crumbled within itself. How can I tell him that? How can I describe to him how the past year hit me like a superfast train? How will he understand that I’m literally holding onto the fringes of myself? He has had glimpse of my utter unhappiness. It doesn’t escape  anyone. My listless eyes, my obvious lack of energy, my dull eyes…my dulled spirit. But I can see he is struggling to see why I would behave the way I am. He probably struggles to understand how can I be  so unhappy that I am not even suicidal. I wish I could tell him how shattered I’ve become.

We talk frequently about separation. We think it even more frequently. I won’t separate.

I wish I had tears. I’d have shed them in front of him. I’d have told him that something is seriously wrong with me. That this is not the time to discuss his burdens…this is not the time to discuss what a
burden I have become. I know it already..

I wish he understood that something is so very wrong with me.