Archive for March 6th, 2010

Broken.

March 6, 2010

I miss my children with a fierce pain today. I stood in the kitchen, hunched over the crutches, the reality of my situation a physical pain – and not just the body side of it, but the parenting side. It’s Saturday. I want to cook for my children, I want to play, I want to go for a walk.

Instead I’ve just got back from treatment. The pain is such that I am wearing a support belt to keep my ligaments from stretching, my bones from rotating and shearing. I am walking uncertainly, crutches barely reining in my wobbles.

I sob in the kitchen. It is soundless, my face frozen. A tear falls into the refried beans. I lean against the refrigerator, TMD comes in and holds me, tries to keep me from my growing hurt and grief and pain.

I wipe my face before I go back into the lounge, put a smile on my face. My children look at me with expectant faces, joy lighting their eyes. I hobble past them, one shaky, jarring, tortuous step at a time, and the tears start again. I turn my face away and move into the hall, my mouth opening again, freezing, water pouring down my cheeks.

After treatment they went into the library, the family… minus me. I walked about ten steps before the pain was so bad TMD gently suggested I returned to the car. I grabbed the keys with no comment. She walked into real life with them, to books, to people. I turned to head back to the car, and the pain was so sudden and deep and ripping a cry came out of my throat and I wasn’t even embarassed about it. I struggled back to the car, but the pain fogged my mind and I couldn’t remember where we’d parked and I stood in the middle of all those cars, forcing a perplexed, fake smile on my face when all I wanted to do was sink down and sob.

It all feels unfair today.

My children are alive and upright and happy. They eat broccoli and chatter and wave their toys around. TMD bakes and plays with them.

I am on the bed, alone, aching, wishing things were somehow different. Everyone and everything in my life is perfect, except for me.

I am broken.

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