Ebb and Flow.

If I talk out loud my emotions fall out as tears. I can feel them rise like the tide choking my throat until they rush past my lids like a breached dam. I’ve always resonated with Disney’s animated Alice from Alice in Wonderland where she cries so hard she starts a flood. Once the waterworks begin, I can’t turn it off till they run their course.

I wear the scars of my emotions for days following, swollen eyes and red chapped lips. Most days I wear my mask to pass as normal. I’ll smile and speak as if I’ve done this before. As the words cross my tongue, I can feel the strings in my chest pulling the mask down like a curtain. Every interaction after is a more exhausted encore I didn’t consent to. I stuff my discomfort and emotions down deep with every encounter until the jar I’ve trapped them in starts to crack.

Writing allows me to skip the unease of interacting with others. Typing the words out uses some different part of my brain to keep emotion from getting all tangled up and intertwined. I’ve caught crap from others for writing instead of speaking up and using my voice. They don’t understand me as much as I explain that I just can’t. It’s not so easy as they claim. I’ve lost friends and relationships. I’ve been misread when it’s all been there black and white, laid bare as my bones in the moonlight for all to see.

I don’t understand others when they twist the words I’ve written or misinterpreted my intentions or tone. I don’t understand a lot. 

I am trying SO HARD to keep my emotions out of disciplining my children or when I’m speaking up for them. I can feel the stress fractures starting. I know I need to cry, but nows not a good time.