Have you ever been heartbroken?
Your heart is on a constriction mode. Sort of breathing but not really. Do you ever get that? It seems your gut and your lungs are suddenly connected that every breath you take needs to be so deep just so you can feel yourself breathe and expel this feeling, not of drowning, but just to get rid of a big ball of something, that hair ball you want hacked out of your insides trapped right smack in the middle of your gut.
But you cant, no matter how much deep breaths you take, no matter how much water you drink, you feel like a prick. It would have been better to declog a shower drain with muck at least you took off the hair ball, even if with your own hands and all the dirty water goes down the drain. You can almost feel the ease and hear the welcome gurrrggh… kloc….. kloc …. kloc … kloc.. kloc, a blocked foreign matter easing out, the pipe drain’s trouble all washed away
One of those epic moments of depression, how do you deal with this, heartache? You look normal, you act normal, heck! you even think normal. You’re wondering why you can process a thought when you are absolutely sure that oxygen would not have reached your brain in the right time. That was the problem, you cannot breath right, but you can never understand why in all of this normal functioning, you’re breathing funny. From drama of it all, I guess most of us have already been thru this feeling of life threatening, gut wrenching pain. The Script could never have sung it any better..
“I’m falling through the doors of the emergency room,
can anybody help me with this exit wounds,
I don’t know how much more love this heart can loose
but I’m dying, dying from these exit wounds…”
Falling hurts, dammit!!! Specially when there’s no one there to catch you when you fall. Begins with a thud, then it’s a loophole of continuing physical hurts that never seem to stop, coming from within. Somehow you literally look at yourself and try to find out where you are bleeding from, hoping to stop it but can’t find those damned holes, trying to breathe, get out of bed, wake up each day, hoping that this day will be different from before.
You numb yourself, walk thru a day like a zombie..
Your alarm goes off in the morning. Dammit! Why do you have to be reminded to wake up when finding sleep was a bliss. You never noticed that you’ve cried yourself to sleep. You needed the comfort of being numb, the endlessness of sleep just to have a break, away from this pain coming from God knows where, but you just can’t stay there staring up the ceiling, waiting for the world to end…
“can’t it end now?”
You feel your breath getting shorter gasp… wait…. Hurt…gasp… Waiting… still waiting, gasp, hurt ..… still waiting, not blinking looking at the ceiling, waiting for the world to end, but my bladder is full I need to pee.
“Okay, so I’ll wait for damnation in the can.”
So you will yourself to put your feet down by the side of the bed, right foot first, then left, then heave your body out of the bed, then walk to bathroom it’s not very far believe me. This is better than just letting all that depression get the better of you and decide to just pee on the bed, not a bad idea at first but later on, a urine smelling bed is not a good impression on someone new in any of your future dates…
“.. Nahhh…. I’m not gonna have any future, I’m already dying now… snif… 😥 “
While sitting on the can… your mind plays trick on you. It’s trying to think on its own while you still feel all the pain. Imagine, you’ve thought you’ve already drained all your body fluids with a waterfall of tears, all the pillows have turned soggy.
“I knew I should have cried in the tub instead, I could have saved some water and turned those tears to better use, recycle them as salt water for cold bath. You think it would be therapeutic? Nahhh… snif.. :’(”
Salty water for cold bath, source… tears? Aint that kinda eiwwwyy.. specially when it dries up and turns into sort of snotty boogers…. Grosss..
“Ohhh.. but I still hurt and all I needed was his hands to tell me its ok, its more than therapeutic… wahhhhh…. 😥 snif….”
“I’m going to brush my teeth now… dammit.. He used up all my mouthwash.. that stupid tightwad! …He’s such a scrooge he reminds of a wrinkled dried up old tire… so there! Snif 😥 ” a tear escapes…
“I better change brands, I’m reminded of his breath. I can remember his lips, on my neck… OMG stop this thinking…”
You’re dying again, code blue, code blue, you sit on the can again, hands on your face, tear drops like a waterfall. Deep breaths, breathe in, breathe out and after a few numbing minutes, when your brain is working again, you stand up, mechanically do all things, let the shower wash everything away.
It’s refreshing having a shower, but you can feel your eye bags almost as heavy as packed luggages. They’ve turned rustic brown and big enough to have their own handles. When a friend looks at you and tells you you’ve run your mascara, answer them it’s not mascara, it’s the handles of your eyebags that’s turned big enough you can almost tie name labels on it.
“Can I tie the handles of my eyebags to the ceiling and hang myself to death, you think it would work?” That’s kinda painful way of comforting yourself, popping your eyes out thru hanging so you won’t have to cry anymore.
Then you dress yourself. Undies, check. shoes, check. Good that today is a uniform day, you don’t have to think about what to wear, so check. You walk or you commute or just call a cab. The hardest part of it all is that this is the same route you take when he used to walk/ride with you to work and every part of the picture is a memory imprinted in your brain. Wont commute, you are so tempted to walk on the street to let yourself be hit by a car that would be a good way to end all this, but…
“hey.. haven’t changed my insurance beneficiary yet… that stupid SOB. Better get to work and finish up all the paper details. He not gonna celebrate on my death.!” marching off fumming, anger is a good coping mechanism.
At work, you choose the most menial of tasks. You can’t afford to think. You would rather put letters on the envelopes, argue with the staff assistant and insist on delivering inter office memo’s yourself. Stamp “receive” and dates on packages, anything so mind-boggling to do, just not the thinking stuff. While now you’ve consciously changed your policy beneficiary, you went thru that same code blue situation again. Needing to breath, cry, hurting, pain, numb. After a very long time, you take hold of yourself march bravely out of the lady’s room only to come back again because you’ve forgotten your phone inside, good that it’s still there. Then you go back and sit on your chair make the best mechanical doll impersonation ever.
The boss’s calling for a staff meeting, panick attack..
” gotta call Ana, please, please, cover for me. Nope, not in, can’t be part of the staff meeting, my bowels are more than loose, they seemed to have broken prison and although it can’t give out much but methane coz I really haven’t been eating any for … what? A week… already?… goodness.. no wonder my farts are getting fiercer by the minute, but food tastes like chalk, dammit! My farts could have tasted better.”
You get by until five. Time to go home, call a cab, it’s better, you can cry in a cab without much people looking at you thinking you must have been lost looking for a halfway house, you look like you’ve just cried for coupons. By the time you get home, grab some stale bread on the table switched on the TV and just laid back on the sofa until you fall asleep.
You wake up, your cold and stiff and numb again. This time physically.
“Geeshhh… all this moping around is hard work..” half blinking, trying to find yourself.
You’re tired with all this depression. Go to the bathroom without much of the effort and bruhaha, freshen up, change clothes, change the bed sheets this smells awful. Hungry.. need quick meal. After finishing up with the meal, you think to yourself,
“hey… that wasn’t so bad, it’s all a breeze. Tomorrow will be a better day..” Raised up your hand, counted all your fingers, yep, they’re all there, still 10, all accounted for. Nope you haven’t accidently or intentionally cut off your pinkies.
God did give us a right and left brain hemisphere. The right hemisphere is working properly again. So much for the left guy, you’ve had your days. Tomorrow’s gonna be different, tomorrow its going to be my day, say’s righty brainy. You brush your teeth, practice your smile, lay on the bed. Somehow, you knew and is quite hoping, this is going to be a dreamless, restful night, slight smile on your face.