It was madness. It was life. It was my life. It was my madness. It was my madness that I was enduring during the storm of my life.
With each passing week, each session brought something new out; good, bad, ugly, bright, happy, sad, angry; whatever it was, it came and I had to feel it all. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it. I physically didn’t know if I could hold myself strong. I didn’t know if my head could hold itself up anymore. Did I have any more tears to give? I swear they didn’t seem to stop. I didn’t know that my body had so much to produce and push out at any given moment, at any given thought.
My mind went everywhere. I wrote and wrote and wrote to try to help myself. To get that pen to the paper let me breathe; it helped me try and slow the spinning wheel that felt like it was about to snap off and run wild down the hill and off of a cliff.
With each passing day I felt weaker and weaker. I felt like I had broken down to almost nothing. I found myself crying for help; begging it to stop. I found that I wasn’t upholding my expectation of myself at work. I couldn’t concentrate, I couldn’t think straight, so I stopped trying as hard. I did the basics, I scooted by, I told myself tomorrow; tomorrow will be the day that I can catch back up. Tomorrow will be the day that I will give it the normal “Kaylee” all.
I couldn’t dare tell people at work though. Do you know what they would think of me? Do you know how they would treat me? A divorce! Before the age of 30! With a child! How dare you!! I could see their looks; their eyes. I could think their thoughts. I just couldn’t tell them because this was my struggle, my problem; I can do it all. I’ve got this.
Then I didn’t have it. The day that I knew I had to talk about it was when my phone kept buzzing from the vibration of blasts of text messages and when I read each word it cut me down a little more, over and over and over again. The tears were coming and I could feel them but I held them in; I couldn’t let myself cry. So, I got back to my desk and I sat down and started in on my emails. The first email was talking about a deadline that was about to not be met, the next was a follow-up email, then an IM from my boss asking me what the heck was going on. Then the massive BOOM of the ultimatum via text and my heart just sunk. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t feel my pulse. My head threw itself down to my chest and I couldn’t stop crying. It was from that moment on I knew I had to talk out loud and not just in our weekly counseling. I needed to breathe it out because I was just doing the same ole thing of holding it all in because I thought I was some super woman. Guess what I found…out I am not.
It didn’t get easier. It still felt just as hard, maybe even harder because now I didn’t have my go–to talker. I didn’t have my support system. I had to figure it all out on my own. Every day felt like there was a new problem on the table. I just kept giving of myself and I don’t know how much more of me I had left to give. I kept waiting for my phone to ring or to get a text or for me to even be able to reach out to just talk but I couldn’t. I had to cross this off the list and show it is not the problem, but with each day of proof, my pulse faded. I weakened to where I was starting to not even be able to recognize who I was or who I was becoming.
The workload was getting larger as I kept not putting all of my effort into it. I wasn’t trying. I wasn’t caring. I was dying inside, maybe I was even already dead just living off of the small last breathes. The holidays were coming and I knew I had to figure it out then because I couldn’t just couldn’t go through those smiling, bright, happy, loving moments like this. I couldn’t ruin everyone else’s life too.
I need to check my pulse. Somebody check my pulse. Somebody hear me scream. Somebody make this all stop. Somebody make this madness end. Somebody tell me what to do. Somebody please. Just somebody.
.…..That somebody had to be me…..