Mayday
Posted on | April 13, 2010 | No Comments
as written May 2, 2008
This month. May. Marks the One year we have dealt with active addiction (outside the denial). Marks the month I would have given birth if I had been able to keep the baby boy in my womb. Marks the birthday of the man before Brent who I gave up. Marks 365 days of feeling unbearable pain. Marks the beginning of spring, and I still do not have him to share it with. He cannot speak to me at all right now, has distanced himself so fully that there is nothing I can do, nothing I can feel except this raw, excruciating, bedrock layer of pain.
When you feel down deep enough, dig down far enough, you will hit your bedrock emotions. And as you made your way down through the topsoil, it hurt, but it was soft dirt. Didn’t take much physical effort to shovel. Then you hit the clay – thick, sludgy, messy, dense…harder than before but still doable. When you toss the clay it hurts your back; heaviness and dank earth. Some of it doesn’t reach the top of your hole and it slams back down upon your head and body, slamming you to the ground. But if you keep going, you get to your bedrock. It is the deepest shame, the most horrific fears – long hidden beneath layers of lighter dirt. When you start to chisel through the bedrock; shards of granite slice through your skin, marble and limestone – shrapnel that cuts your eyes out and severs your arteries with their hardness and excruciating original pain.
That is where I am. And I look down occasionally wondering how it is that I am not bleeding over everything. I look inside and I see the deep red. I wonder when it will all be over. Even if it never will be.
It’s a may spring day…
A May day
May day
Mayday…she shouts,
Mayday!
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