Screaming Silence.

The roar is deafening. The kind you would hear at a sports arena. It's all the rage and heartache that is building inside me wanting to be let out like a caged animal. I must continue to bury the signs of breakdown, because if I ignore them long enough, they will eventually go away, at least for a little while I suppose. And during those times, the times that I can't hear the roar, It is my solace. I've recently come to believe the screaming is still there, but I've somehow managed to suppress it long enough to convince myself that all is well. Solace comes and goes, I might have a good day, a day that I consider to be good, but really, what is normal anyway? How do you judge who or what is normal, when it seems as though the world as a whole is crazy. And you're just some test project, a rat in a maze. If I could only be who I really am on the inside, then I would consider my life worthy. What I see in the mirror doesn't reflect who I am, but since the image in the mirror is what others see when they look at me, then I'll never get to be who I am. Why can't people get past the outside, why can't I? With everyday that passes, a little bit more of the real me dies. Before long, there won't be anything left. The screams of mercy are falling on deaf ears. I long to just be normal. The voices in my head are screaming silence because there is no one to hear.

My Day in a Nutshell.

I woke up at 10.30 to a hungry crying baby, I get up, brush my teeth, I get a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, and realize, at that moment, that this is about as good as I'm gonna look all day. Huh, sad really . Passing over the hair brush, I grab some carmex and slide it greasily over my parched lips. Walking through the hallway, I pass the baby's room I reach for the door knob, only to stop short, I decide that I had better fix her milk first. I head into the dirty kitchen, dishes piling up, I have to look for space on the counter just to have a place to set the jug of milk. A quick look over at the sink, and another promise to myself that "today is the day, I'll get those dishes washed". After peeling a banana, I get the baby out of the crib that she has scooted into the middle of the room, this is her new trick you see, rocking back and forth, banging against the rails. I've recently mastered changing her diaper while she's standing up. She decided last week that laying down for a diaper change was boring, so I had no choice but to learn how to do it while she's moving.
The day creeps on, slowly but surely. Pile after pile of clean laundry is desperately in need of folding. Oh, how I long for the day that clothes put themselves away. I sit at my cluttered desk wondering, if I'll ever be an efficient worker, mom, or even wife. I have about 14 different projects on my "plate" right now, all crying for attention. It seems at times I can hear them whispering..pick me..no, no, do me first, until, I'm leaning with both elbows atop the desk clenching my head, wondering, how did I get here. The phone rings, bringing me back to reality, I look at the number, it's a long distance number, probably a bill collector. I've become numb to those rings, disregarding them as if they'll soon go away. We all know they won't.
Heath has gone to a luncheon, the baby is napping, and Marge (the live in grandmother) is in her own little LaLa land. A place I long to go, too often I'm afraid. Finally, a peaceful house, to my surprise, I go into the office and whittle away at a few lingering tasks, tying up loose ends on a couple of the before mentioned projects.
Ahhh, nightfall has come, the window is cracked in the little office that I share with Heath, I smell smoke from a barbeque grill, I'm hungry. I hear a dog barking in the neighborhood, the slow steady hum of the computer, it's at that moment, in this house full of people, that I become aware of how lonely it can get. I sigh, thinking of the sink full of dishes that never got washed. Tomorrow is another day.