Tag-along

Pain. Excruciating and effortless. Deafening and silent. Piercing and soothing. Bitter and oh so sweet. My pain is the only reminder that I am alive and there is nothing I cherish more than my life. So I hold on to the pain for dear life, I cling to it and don’t dare to let go. What will remain of me if not for the pain?

Hashem, but it hurts so much.

It hurts so much when searing, unrestrained tears gush down my cheeks. They leave a trail of mascara and form a muddy puddle at my feet. Blub, blub, blub. That’s the drowning sound of my aspirations to build an exemplary Jewish home. I don’t even bother throwing a life buoy at them; besides, that thing will probably melt as soon as it touches the burning surface of the salty byproducts of my pain. I feel weak and ashamed, but I let the tears drop.

It hurts so much when I clench my teeth in an attempt not to scream out loud. “Mommy, machn aaaa” – my 2-year-old prods me. She is so cute, tugging on my skirt, willing to share her pretzels just because. I can’t say “Aaaa”, because if I open my mouth, it won’t turn out to be the exact “Aaaa” she is anticipating, so I gently shake my head and try to smile at her. Gulp, gulp, gulp. There, down my throat, go my dreams of being a commendable mother. I feel alone in my misery, but it’s a feeling, so it works.

It hurts so much when I tighten my grip on the stroller handle as I push it down a busy avenue. “Hurt along with me!” – I am about to scream at the oblivious crowd, but I hold myself back. I sense my nails digging into the palms of my hands and it reminds me that I can still feel. Gack, gack, gack. Accidentally or not, but my high hopes for stability and normality get caught in the grasp of my hand. I feel sorry to hear them choke, but I can’t let go. I feel, therefore I am.

It hurts so much to hear you tell me that I relish my pain. Only I am allowed to voice this statement! You don’t know what my pain means to me!

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to yell…”

But I really did mean to yell, to be truthful.

Crush, crush, crush. Three weighty crumpling sounds in tribute of my wishes for the perfect union of husband and wife.

There are just so many feelings to feel.

Hashem, it hurts so much when families fall apart. How much did it hurt You when my little world came crashing down?

I became my pain’s tag-along. So, I daven for new friends.

Disclaimer: neither physical nor emotional pain is the appropriate substitute for your daily functions. Please seek advice from a licensed mental health practitioner if you lose interest in activities once pleasurable. And also, just be kind to yourself.

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1 Comment

  1. spilledinkwriting July 29, 2018 at 8:57 am

    I have been where you are. Just keep going…one day you may see your divorce as a blessing. I know I do. It honestly IS better to be alone than spend your life with the wrong person….at least you now have the opportunity to meet the right one eventually.

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