When All Else Fails...

In the past week I have swallowed about 10 gallons of tears that have been searching for an escape. My chest feels like a pressure cooker waiting to explode. Eyes burning and throat swollen, I fight the sorrow, because I don't want to seem weak. Despite the beauty surrounding me on a daily basis, I am drowning in fear, anger, shame, and sadness.

Why?

Because frankly, a lot of shit happened, and my support system has been minimized, at no fault to anyone other than having a busy summer schedule. As soon as May hit, the tethers to my social life snapped one by one. The most hindering being one of my best friends, Betsy, moving back up north to be closer to family. I am so incredibly proud and happy for her, yet miss her dearly. As awesome as FaceTime is, it won't replace the impromptu trips to Olive Garden or late night beer chats.

I haven't gone out on my own, other than for work, since April. Those who are stay-at-home moms, or who struggle with similar issues as me, understand that a social life is necessary. Getting that once a week break is almost essential in order to function. By no means am I trying to complain about my life, just giving insight as to why I have become emotionally vulnerable. 

Today, I was in church, and my baby was in nursery. It was the first time in a few weeks, I could breathe, and as soon as I did I could feel the tears welling up because I knew I had been suppressing my misery for too long. I can utilize skills day in and out all I want, but it is only a temporary suppression. When all else fails, I fall apart.

In the beginning of May, I attended the play Every Six Minutes, and that night I wrote about my vulnerability and my inner child (5/9):

Today I felt myself longing to comfort my inner child. Sitting in that play, hearing the truths I have been spouting being told by people other than me, held a new sense of reality. I no longer had to be the Elder, spitting out knowledge. I just sat, and soaked in the raw emotion portrayed by this cast, who clearly had experienced the same pain I had. I feel like my skin is buzzing with sensitivity. As if someone dares to touch, or even hug me, I will collapse into a pile of salty tears. While I am vulnerable to my inner child's sadness and fear, I am liberated by my voice.

Knowing that advocating through my writing is what has brought peace to many women, I knew I had to go forward with publishing my memoir somehow. Maya Angelou, my biggest inspiration, came to the forefront of my mind, so I checked out some of her works I had yet to read. I was rather giddy returning form the library, and even started formulating a letter of thanks to her for sharing her story in hopes to help girls like me see what can become of a life after it has seen evil. Her death shattered my heart, yet made the relevance of my advocacy paramount.

Silence nor stagnancy will do any good.

"I learned a long time ago the wisest thing I can do is be on my own side, be and advocate for myself and others like me" -Maya Angelou