10 pm, sleep should have taken me. But inside things were rolling and the knowledge that it wouldn’t come was irrevocable. By 2 AM, after a double sleep dose, my body was out till 9 AM. But with waking came tears and lots of them. Why oh why? (do I have to be me)
Samuel had to hear it all, and for once acted kindly. To a point.
“I can’t manage going to Cory’s with eye thing coming up,” I cried.
“You can do it,” he said referring to the 6 hour drive to Cory’s, adding, “I’ll go.”
“Go ahead”, I blurted, thinking that idea sounded lovely but also knowing he was full of shit.
Adding again, “No I can’t. Not with the eye surgeries ahead in the coming weeks. You don’t know how much courage it takes just to go to the appointment this week to meet him,” I retorted.
Then actually doing it. Tears began pouring out that have been held in day after day when thinking about someone cutting on my eye, and all the other strangers getting near my body.
“You can do it. Sleep in the back seat,” he said in a droning monotone.
“You’re being callous,” I said, “You don’t know me.”
“You can do it,” he repeated.
“You don’t know me,” my sadness and frustration at being me, and being with someone who will never understand my challenges, took me further into feelings of despair.
The phone rang. Relief from my fall into self-pity.
It seems to be occurring that once a week medication is required to keep my being calm. My thoughts, or just everyday living, rattles my already over-worked and over-tired systems to a point where help is needed.
Perhaps someday I will accept this without blaming myself. Exercise, eat right, meditate, all of that isn’t enough to cure a body that lived with the ravages of imprisoned trauma trapped in her being. All what I try to do is helpful, but the damage done from the early years is real, and permanent. Management not cure is the reality.
The only cure would be for it all to have never happened.
Patricia J Grace 
I want to cry reading this, I relate strongly and yet know that I could not ever express my inner turmoil as well as you do. I’m frustrated with myself because sometimes when I read back my own words, they seem empty and sound like whining to me and yet they help lift some burden from me. My husband means well with his pep talks but can never really understand my anxieties or the things that trigger some deep reaction. I just wanted you to know that you touch me deeply with your ability to speak truths that are meaningful, if only to realize that a walk that often feels so lonely isn’t so alone.
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A fellow traveler. You help so much by sharing. Though I wouldn’t wish a similar journey on you, I feel less alone.
Thank you!
It is no surprise that you may be unaware of your talent at expression considering the things that have been said to you as you grew. In reading your posts I was struck by how well spoken you are, thoughtful, and succinct.
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