Caught In My Throat
I haven’t felt much like writing, I think the words have been caught in my throat. Not for fear of letting them out, but just not knowing what to say. I am at another end of the year with holidays and family gatherings and you not being here. I thought maybe it would be a good time to grab the emotions out and set them free.
I’ve been muffled for the last year with so many people telling me what I should do and so many signs telling me how to live that I’ve just remained quiet. Not for fear of getting sick, but for fear of offending the world if I didn’t follow their instructions. I guess that shortcoming of really giving a shit about what people think of me is still weighing me down.
I always admired those who can live freely without caring about the things people say about them behind their backs. I often wonder how one acquires this superpower. If I could wake up one day and achieve this higher level of survival, I would wrap it up inside of me and keep it safe. I used to walk that path of living a life that didn’t bother too many people. I was always quiet so people around me would simply not see me as I blended into society's acceptable behaviors. I was like the woman on the bus that nobody could quite remember because I was shades of grey in a newspaper without a bold headline.
I reverted to that person this past year so that I didn’t make any sudden movements against society, and yes there was a fear of being ostracized.
During this entire horrible year, I lost my voice.
I started choking, coughing, sputtering up pieces of letters forming fragments of things I thought, but nothing came out. It was like I swallowed a whale and he was drowning me in my own body. I am still underwater almost 4 years after the death of my son and although people picture me “getting better”, I just acquired a better way to blend in.
The colors and variables of who I am, who I was trying to become have left me. The world has pushed me off the edge of normalcy and the progress I had made has fallen hundreds of feet. I am dangling in mid-air, aware of the bottom, but just kind of hanging here in suspension. I don’t know how to grow wings and fly.
This past year has taught me a lot about society and unfortunately, none of it is good. I am just going to keep thrashing around in this mess until nothing else can be done. I picture myself running until I can’t run anymore, and I fall in exhaustive plainness. If this is depression, then I am an elated idiot. I will just keep running until I can’t anymore.
For now….I’ll just keep my mouth shut.
