Sometimes life is so draining that I literally feel like someone took two giant suckers and put them underneath my clavicle on either side and turned them on. They're not loud munching crunching suckers, they're quiet suckers that leave bruises in their wake and an empty feeling - like all of the emotional liquid in my body has been pressurized in a vacuum and is being carried away. Sometimes I actually look to see if there are little clear tubes expressing all of the emotional essence of my being carrying my emotions out of me. The thing is, if it was yucky, snot-colored, putrescent emotional essence that I saw leaving, I would think the pain and the sucking agony was worth it. But no, it seems like it's the clear stuff - the essence of "what's good and green in this world" - that is being sucked away, leaving all the nasty stuff inside.
That's when I stop caring about the suckers, stop wondering if they'll go away - because the ache is so bad I know they won't...not without a fight.
So I start thinking about what I can do to survive the next moment, the next hour, the next day. I put the tubes in my mind back underneath my shirt so I can pretend they're not there, and I start coping. I go for a walk. I kiss my baby. I cry, and cry, and write, and cry. I talk to my very understanding husband. I try to immerse myself in work. I call friends and ask them to tell me about their problems so I can focus on something besides my own emotional pain. I eat copious amounts of 86% dark chocolate.
Most of all, I pray, and pray, and guide my thoughts to better things with all my might, and live for the hope that tomorrow will be a better day.
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