Silence

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
and rightdoing there is a field.
I’ll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about.”
Jalaluddin Rumi

Sometimes, the silence is too loud.

Sometimes, the silence is a clatter in my mind. It deafens my spirit.

Sometimes, the silence is too much and the noise of life can’t be heard through the din of silence.

I’ve had a lot of ups and downs over the last few weeks. Some of my own doing, well, most really. I would like to think I control my emotional responses to that which occurs to me, but I know that thanks to my MS, that isn’t always the case.

I usually keep silent to what is my inner turmoil, allowing my husband brief glimpses of what is eating me inside out. My children sometimes see the aftermath – lack of patience, inability to focus on a conversation. Moodiness.

I try to hide it, but I’m not very good at hiding.

Sometimes it ekes out when I least expect it. At the start of a conversation, I just stand there with unfelt tears falling. It’s only when they cross the threshold of my cheeks do I realize I’ve started crying.

Mostly, I try to silence that part of it, burry deep inside and live in the now. But it weighs me down, anchors me into my seat until I feel as a statue – made of stone, incapable of movement.

The silence envelops me in those movements. The lack of movement stiffening my joints, dragging my body further and further down, into my chair that is. Breathing these days feels heavy, tight.

Then the music starts. My body wants to move, to live. My spirit shakes off the shackles of the silence.

The sounds of life filter in around me. They wrap around my frame in the warmth of sound. A blanket covering my body in a will to be.

The silence is no more.

Delerium – Silence feat. Sarah McLachlan

Fallen

“The world breaks everyone, and afterward, many are strong at the broken places.” ― Ernest Hemingway

I live with many mask.

I wear them at different times, sometimes together.

Right now, for instance, on the outside I wear the mask of the dutiful worker, compliant and conforming (well, mostly). I wear the mask of the dutiful mother, wife, daughter.

Inside, where there are no masks to wear, I am broken.

On the weekend, I wore the mask of mom. It’s not really a mask though, it is one of my many aspects, but it masks the pain and anguish.

My head/scalp, neck and shoulders have been numb for a couple of weeks now. My doctor believes my MS is flaring a bit. I get symptoms, but haven’t had a full flare in years. My MS is considered mild.

Cognitively, my MS has robbed me of so much. Memories gone, thoughts scattered in the wind.

Depression has become my constant companion. Even with the joy of starting to lose weight, my children, new pets, life…it is always there. Sometimes harsher than at others.

When the depression comes, I wear the mask of happiness, a false smile, over exuberance to compensate for the lack of true emotive joy.

Few things truly make me happy now. My children. When my youngest smiles at me, my heart smiles back. My pets…my bearded dragon and my budgies (my two newest additions) get me out of bed in the morning and functioning because they depend on me to survive. I love these two little birds. They are still juveniles, but we think they are male as their ceres are a purplish hue (adult males have blue ceres – the area around the nostrils). I’ve only had them since last week, and they already provide me with more than they will ever fathom.

Spook & Lemon

I’m not ok. I wear a mask of being fine, but I know I’m not.

I try. I really truly try.

I feel so broken lately. My older son has so many issues. I love him with all my heart, I love all my children deeply. My older ones have broken me. I don’t know what to do for them anymore, how to help them, how to cope. Even if I am right and they know it, I am still wrong, that in itself is not unusual – the reactions from them, however, are.

I’m tired. I want to spend a month in bed, but my body would ache from the pressure on it.

I’m tired of this rollercoaster. Just once would I so love to have a day of peace. No arguing, no loud noises, no door slams, no stomping, no screaming at me, no swearing at me, no expectations. Just one day to ‘be’.

Wouldn’t that be nice?

Sarah McLachlan – Fallen