Mess

If I could give this all back
I would be home in the morning
I’d wake up in a cold sweat
Take a flight back to the city I was born in
And I would wipe myself clean
Of what I knew was unimportant
I’d want typical things
I’d try to fit back into all my old clothing

And I would prove myself wrong
That all along, the problem was me
With all my bitterness gone
Happy, I’d be

I’ll move back home forever
I’ll feed the dogs
And I’ll put all my pieces back together
Where they belong, and I’ll say
“I’m a mess, I’m a mess, oh God, I’m a mess”

~Noah Kanan

I’m finding it so hard to write. How can I express only pieces of this pain I’m living inside. In time, I will be able to give every single detail, but I just can’t do it yet. I have to hold inside myself so many things. Things I’d normally have written extensively about already, if I only could. It isn’t that I don’t want to. Oh God, I so wish I could. My blog truly is my therapy. I’ve healed from so much pain, through simply “getting it out” in my writing.

There are a whole lot of layers, to this “shit cake”. It’s as if half a dozen or so of the most important people in my life have passed away, all at the same time. It’s not just Jackie. It’s much more than that. My children cry daily. I’ve seen my husband with tears down his face twice, in the last few days. He never even showed emotion like that when his dad died. Not in front of me, anyway. I’ve lost 5 pounds. I just can’t eat, and if I do, I can’t keep food in my stomach for long.

In spite of the tears and our troubles, my girls and I went shopping today. I took them to Culver’s, for lunch. We found some cute Summer clothes, and sandals. I think the kids are planning to get in the pool to swim, here soon. I cooked meatloaf, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, and rolls for supper, last night. We did our best to enjoy a “normal” evening together. It was the first time I’ve fixed supper, this week. Every night, since Saturday, Adam has made love to me. We both so desperately need each other. I can’t seem to find sex pleasurable to my body, though. It does feel good for different reasons. Getting as close as a husband and wife physically can be. This emptiness I know we both constantly are feeling, is temporarily ignored. It’s just him and me. Nothing else matters for those minutes our naked bodies cling together.

I don’t know what happens next. I’m not even sure what tomorrow will look like. I’m typically such a neat freak. I like everything to be in its place. If things aren’t tidy, I’m able to put all the clutter back where it goes. I can’t do that, inside my head, though. It’s just…a mess.