Monday, August 17, 2009

Rachael the Volcano

Hello, Everyone. This is Rachael. Rachael the Volcano.

Per Wikipedia:
A volcano is an opening, or rupture, in a planet's surface* or crust, which allows hot magma**, ash and gases to escape from below the surface.***
*planet = me
**hot magma = me screaming and crying like that of a young, immature child
***below the surface = where I bottle all my emotions till one small thing can make my entire being rupture.

I had a break down yesterday. A full-on embarrassed-other-people-were-in-the-car break down. And by other people I mean poor Danielle and Anakin. Because I more or less took it out on my poor baby because he would not stop crying and not stop screaming and not stop arguing with me over nothing and at that moment I just couldn't take it anymore. I made Dennis pull over on the side of the road and let me out. I was totally okay with walking the 1.5 miles home if it meant a little peace and quiet for more than two minutes. But when Dennis got home with Anakin, he sent Danielle to come get me and after a moment of pride, I eventually got in her car. I mean, it was hot outside. And I was wearing a skirt. And flip flops. And I'm stupid and shouldn't have been walking anyway. So yeah, I got in the car.

How do you describe this feeling? It feels like drowning. I used to hear people say that and I would just think they were being overly dramatic. And that was a selfish, naive perspective. That's a perspective you have when the most difficult decision you make in a day is where to eat lunch. I had no idea what it meant in life to have so much expected of you by so many people and to think in one moment -- in one single moment -- I. can't. do. this. Your chest is tight and your head is spinning and you're gasping for air. You feel the walls around you closing in and each task that seems impossible is hanging like a yolk on the napes of your shoulders, tearing in on the skin and you hold your hands up desperately to break through the darkness that is eminently falling all around you. You are drowning. And in that moment, that moment when you know you can't possibly take one more thing, you hear this faint voice, somewhere outside the chaos ask "Hey sweetie, what's for dinner?" And any strength you had that was holding anything together dies. Your fear and struggle and little-bit-of-courage turns into fury and anger and horror. You slash at everything around you, making you sink only deeper into the water till the darkness takes over and you can't do anything but let it sink in. When you finally come to, everything is broken. Now instead of holding things together, you're picking up the pieces.

Maybe it's not that bad. But that's how it feels. I'd like to say when it's over I feel better. Like a shooken-up bottle of soda that finally gets the release it so desperately needs. Sure, now there's soda fizz all over the floor but I bet that darn bottle feels like it just got a huge load off it's shoulders. But the truth is, when it's all over, I just feel defeated. Like this stupid world got the best of me. That the pressure of being a mom and student and wife (and a good one of all of those things all at the same time) beat me out today. I feel like a failure. I feel like I just ran in a race I didn't even finish. I guess breaking down, to me, feels like giving up.

So today, a little bruised, and still with the sour taste of disgust in the back of my throat, I'm picking up the pieces and trying to start again.

For those of you that read regularly, this is what happens when I actually talk about how I'm feeling. Usually when I feel like writing crap like this, I don't write at all. But today I did. So it's out there now.

1 comment:

stella g. said...

gee, you make this whole motherhood thing that i just signed up for seem so great... but thanks for the honesty. just remember that the Big Guy upstairs has never thought of you as a failure. if anything he's cheering you on louder than anyone. you really are doing great. :)