Admitting Defeat

Today* I admitted defeat.

Nothing extraordinary, just one of those days when life threw you a bit more than what you felt you can take.

Something in me just snapped, and before I could stop it, all I saw was red.

I lost my temper and it was like a bomb just exploded from deep within me.

Months of repressed emotions quickly rose up, eager to be unleashed, as if they had waited forever to get out.

I shouted.  Over and over again.

I screamed on top of my lungs until my throat hurted and the veins on my face and neck tightened painfully.  I slammed my fists on the wooden desk and hurled my phone across the floor.

Grief oozed out from my every pore.  My body started shaking from half-spent anger and desolation.

Slumped on a chair, I gripped both armrests in my fists and howled in agony.  There were no words, just animal-like sounds coming out of my mouth while tears flowed freely down my face.

I did not want to stop.

When my wails turned to whimpers, I slipped down to the floor and crawled to the corner of my study room, tucking my curled up body into the comforting nook between two walls.

Silent tears continued long after fatigue took over.

I floated in a state of semi-consciousness, in and out, in, out... until darkness and sleep finally arrived and claimed me.

*This post was written on November 19th, 2011

A State of Inertia

I blinked.  The room was dark despite the opened curtains.  I must have slept far longer than I thought.

I reveled in those fleeting minutes of peacefulness.  My mind was in that blissful state, where awareness had not yet caught up with the numbness that lingered after a deep slumber.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.  In that stillness I could hear...

My heart beating... thump, thump, thump...

The clock's second hand making its endless round... tick, tick, tick...

The air rustling my pillow sheet as I breathed in and out... in, out...

The muffled sounds coming from the television downstairs... news, I think...

I opened my eyes, my mind growing more alert with each passing second.  Back to reality, to grappling with the loss of my other half.  Whose voice and presence around the house I missed the most, yet nowhere to be found.

My daughter's laughter from somewhere in the house.  Just as faint and muted as the others, but one that was more audible to my ears than all the rest.  A music to my ears.  A reminder that some things in life were worth living for.

And then there were others that were not and would be better left behind.

I knew this was only the beginning.  I have not even begun to grieve, let alone heal.  My days of mourning the death of my marriage were far from over.  But for that few seconds, when stupor still reigned over consciousness,  I let myself float...  To stop fighting the inevitable.  To simply live in the moment. 

To just be.  

My Mother's Daughter

I was curled up fetus-like on the bed.  Hands in fists that held on to the blanket like a lifeline.  The tears had stopped flowing for some time, exhausted for the night.  I kept my eyes shut although every detail of the room was already etched in my memory.  Trinkets and remnants of a life lived together.  Their presence loomed all around me, a reminder of what was lost. 

Someone opened the door, footsteps quick and light on the hardwood floor.   

Leave me alone.  My whole body stiffened, preparing itself to tune out any outside noises so the mind could continue to flounder in misery.

I felt familiar arms lifting me up.  "Ssshhh... It's okay...  it's okay...."  It was my mother's voice.  She cradled me close to her heart, and gently rocked me back and forth as she whispered, "I'm here.  It's okay...."  My mother's tenderness a stark contrast to his cruel words spewed forth just moments before.

My mother shouldn't have to see me like this.  Shame and guilt washed over me...  The last thing I wanted to do was to make her sad.  Yet there I was, her only child who recently told her of her failing marriage, curled up in a ball wanting to die.  All I could say to her was, "Mom, I'm sorry...."  I kept my eyes shut, afraid to see myself as viewed through my mother's eyes.

Still holding me close, she told me, "No matter how old you are, you'd still need your mom.  I'm your mother, and I'm here for you.  And so shall you be for your daughter, because she needs her mother."  

Her words brought down whatever defenses I had left.  Again I wept... trails of tears that seeped through the fabric of my mother's clothing.  I held one of her hands and squeezed it tight.  There were no adequate words to describe my gratitude.  

At that moment, I ceased to be anything but her little girl, crying for her mama to make all the wrong things alright.  And she understood.  In silence, she sat there watching over me.  I knew it wasn't over, but that night I let her presence chased my demons away.         

How a Heart Breaks

Do you know why they call it ‘heartbreak?’

Let me tell you why.

Because the moment love flees, your heart would harden.  Your chest tightens, until it is difficult to breathe.  Your lungs would then frantically grasp for air, your veins would start to clench, and for a moment it would feel as if you’ve lost your senses.

A few seconds of numbness.

Then if you listen closely, you would hear that first snap.  And feel something close to a kick in the gut.  Pain flows through your blood, its heat rises to the surface, singeing your skin, making you cringe.  Already bruised and battered, the heart knows it doesn’t stand a chance.  The strain has finally exceeded its strength.  With a roar only you could hear, your heart starts to break, piece by piece, into fragments of unrecognizable shards.  

Just when you think it’s over, another fissure splits open.  As it burst into splinters, the pain is fresh each time.  Waves of nausea would assault your insides, your mouth would taste the bitter taste of bile, and tears would pour out from your eyes.

Just as quickly as it hits you, those feelings would disappear.  Their presence is replaced by quiet emptiness that is deceitful in its stillness.  Because as soon as the pain subsides, another piece of your heart would break, and then the whole cycle would begin again.

Until there is nothing left but broken-off scraps... that one day would be all blown away by time.

Mission Impossible: "Doomsday Report"

My mind has been completely blank the past few days.  For reasons I prefer not to disclose (believe me, you don't want to know, anyway), it's been a really tough week for me.  I don't know if you notice, but I'm certainly in a mellow mood.  The kind of mood that makes people stay away and look at you suspiciously.

Never a multi-tasker, I'm never good at functioning under duress.  My mind tend to zoom in on the impending doom and just refuse to think of anything else.  With the exception of eating (bummer, I wish I'm one of those people who "forgets" to eat or lose their appetite when stressed), it's like my mind is systematically shutting down its function one by one: can't think, can't plan, can't concentrate, can't keep up appearances, can't write, can't blog,...

I've attempted to write a post a few days ago and failed miserably.  My heart's just not in it.  In fact, at the moment my heart is wandering in some infinite space, un-anchored and lost.  I'm not good at uncertainties, but then again, which neurotic, OCD, slightly paranoid lady would be good at that, huh?  It's a constant struggle in there somewhere... hey, snap out of it!; (pause to take Lord Xanax); wait, wait, wait, you can't just ignore it?!?; f#@k this, I ain't no need of this $#!^!; (pause to take Monsieur Zoloft); but you're basically screwed man!; who the heck cares??!?; (hmm, maybe I need that extra half pill today); am so exhausted yet I can't sleep; (uh huh, time for that date with Mr. Seroquel); and on and on....

I know I'm royally f#@ked when I couldn't even bother to shop.  And I watched Water for Elephants yesterday at the cinema.  Alone.

It really doesn't take Einstein to notice, really.  I don't normally think in terms of expletives, but lately, my mental vocabulary have consisted of nothing but.  If you have some creative ones, you're welcomed to add.  I'm obviously in need of some clever new ones.  Just look at this piece of writing here... grade A, no doubt.

Stay tuned and let's hope I find the off button to the self-destruct mode I'm presently in.

Good evening, Miss Sweat.  This tape will self-destruct in...