Enough time
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I’ll give you a minute, the doctor said. / A minute to sort through the daze / A minute to take in that the baby was gone / A minute to cry out in pain.
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The flip side of fear
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My body would want to clench every tooth, grip, joint, sinew, as though its own hanging-on to itself might combat the inevitable force of impact. But it can't. The inertia that would crumple a car is a thousand times stronger than me. If I go limp, there's a chance I might knock around inside disaster with a fraction more fluidity. Gone limp, I might break a little less.
Read MoreThe unwanted gold
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They call it Pain Olympics. 'Don’t try to play it,' wise people say. 'There’s no point.' For a long time, I couldn’t help it. I kept it to myself, mostly, but Pain Olympics had become a reflex beyond my control. I didn’t want that gold medal. But I’d be damned if someone else would try and claim it.
Read MoreWhen all we have are words
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I know they are just words. I know we have to share them. But it feels like we should get something more. Maybe it’s not the fault of the word. Maybe the words just simply don’t stretch as far as we are gone. Maybe there are no words to truly describe the pain of it all. Sometimes, in my angriest times, I wish there was something sacred, something more, something I could selfishly claim and reserve for those of us who have walked this path and nobody else. It just doesn't seem fair, to share.
Read MoreKeeping my distance
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As I walk to my car after work in the early evening darkness of winter, I realize that my shaky situational management has, what appears to me, a consequence. I cycle through the past moments of avoidance and self-preservation, replay the flashes of tense minutes forced upon me, of gritting my teeth through apathetic dismissals veiled in platitudes. I weigh them against the softer moments of kind words, timely gifts and acknowledgement, but find an imbalance.
Read MoreThe company we keep
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We’re stuck in between. In between worlds and in between words. And while our friends live in their whole worlds and speak in their whole languages, and we take part and play along, our fragmented lives and fractured words cannot fit or reflect perfectly.
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