“It’s your fault.”
I lay numb under thin covers, unable to move.
A thick cement has filled every bone.
“You lost your temper again.”
I cringe at the memory of the words I shouted and bury my splotchy face in the pillow.
“How stupid did you look as you yelled?”
My tears soak into the sheets that cover my head and my lungs suck in painful air.
“What do they think of you now?”
I want to disappear.
“No one listens to you when you say how you feel,
Probably because it is stupid and invalid.”
I wonder if they wish I was different.
“You don’t deserve what everyone else has.”
“You are different than everyone else,
you are without.”
If I had one wish, I would wish for Serotonin.
“You can’t manage what everyone else manages.
They have brushed hair and manicured nails.
Their clothes are steamed and their faces are fresh.
And then there is you.”
The light hurts my eyes and I feel a gavel pounding on the side of my head.
“Your kids would be better off with a put-together mother,
One with blonde hair, a full face of makeup, and a designer bag.
The kind that smiles and waves and talks with everyone,
The kind you make a face at.
And another wife would make him happier,
one that is sweet and innocent,
Because you are the problem.”
And then I remember that I am a child of God.
Full of Sin but saved by grace.
And He is my Father.
Full of Love and Mercy and slow to anger.
I will not listen to the lies that the enemy whispers.
I will listen to Him who says that I am Fearfully and Wonderfully made.
I will go wash my face, throw on jeans, and sip a cold soda…
Maybe call the Doc for a stronger script, and breath in and out
Until he and the kids come home and I remember it will all be okay.
Then, I will try again.
