You know when you first wake up after a deep sleep and that cloudiness is covering your eyes or you step outside early on a cool morning after a warm rain and there’s this gauzy veil covering everything? I’m perpetually in that state. I talk, drive, cook, clean, eat, work-all while in this melancholy mist. I don’t know how to escape it or if I could even exist without it at this point. Maybe he’s right and I need the sadness or the chaos.
Sometimes when I breathe it in, it’s heavy and I’m left gasping. Other times I can navigate through the vapor seamlessly.
It’s getting easier to pretend it’s not there when others are around. I can still feel it enveloping me like an old, scratchy, wool blanket. But I can force a smile and meaningless conversation and ignore the itch for a little while.
It is not so easy to reject when I’m home and vulnerable. It seems to slide across me effortlessly like paint on a canvas. No smiles, no conversations. It’s easier to not engage. I want to protect them from the sadness and negativity. But it’s winning. I have caught each of them muddling through the vagueness. I allowed this to get too close to them.
I often find myself staring off. I think I’m trying to see through the blur and find some light.
Just a spark, a flicker and maybe we’ll be okay.
bean láidir 