They have reduced my medication. They say I am ready but I am not so sure. I have changed. I no longer just go along with things. I have given up the “nod and smile”. Now I cry and scream and let it out. I am resistant.
Most of the time I don’t want to find my way back. I wonder if they know this? The pain is unbearable. The shame and confusion.
I have no identity. The person I was is gone. So who am I now? I don’t want to know. So I resist. I have learned that if you act crazy enough they will bring relief. There are tricks. There is only so much they can tolerate.
The haze is welcome when it comes. It numbs but it also confuses me enough that it helps me get lost. Time passes. I am in limbo. I am safe.
But then it starts again. Moments of clarity. Pieces of the puzzle. An image. An action remembered. Before too long it overwhelms.
I am noticing that these periods are getting longer. I am “coping much better” they say. I listen to them talking, whispering. Another little trick of mine.
I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Days? Weeks? Months? I don’t think so but who knows.
I do know that it has been long enough that my taught, fit body is starting to sag. I am skinny in a way that is not attractive. My hair is a mess. I don’t brush it. Or wash it. I don’t shave. I haven’t bothered looking in a mirror. I resist.
I have a lot of “support” in here. In other words, there are a lot of people poking and prodding and asking me questions. Trying to get to the bottom of it, I guess. When they ask me, I tell them what I think they want to hear. But they know this so they ask me again. Sometimes I close my eyes and we are done talking.
But sometimes I answer. My head swims with the question and often what I say is more of a question than the first one but they don’t mind. They seem to know that their guess is as good as mine. They seem to know that I don’t have the answers either.
He still comes every day. He’s here when I open my eyes and here when I close them. As clarity comes I am overwhelmed by a truth I had kept hidden deep in the darkness, away from my view. A realization I can’t face.
He knows.
I cry out. Tormented. Tortured by this truth. Soon someone is there and the pain is gone. I am numb again. I am lost. The truth tucked away. Hidden. Out of my reach. Unable to find me.
Once again, I resist.
I wish you strength Lyla. And I applaud the courage you have to keep sharing your story. Thank you.
It’s the husband who is there day in and day out. Obviously, Lyla has had deepseated problems for quite some time so perhaps this affair was a watershed experience for her which was painful but necessary. Also, “taught” should be “taut” in the context of the sentence above.