It was bubbling in my chest. Like a thousand carbonated bubbles in a bottle dropped on the pavement. I could feel it in the center of my chest, putting pressure on my lungs and making it difficult to breathe. It was spreading to my shoulders and my neck. Working it’s way down my arms into my fingers. I felt restless and pinned down. Like a tidal wave pushing me into the sand at the bottom of the ocean.
I put my head down, squeezing my temples, and closed my eyes as hard as I could. Trying to put it all out of my memory and shut out the sounds around me. I needed it out and it had no where to go. I screamed as loud as I could in my head and it felt pointless. It was all pointless. It needed out and it needed out now.
I did the only thing I could do at the moment.
I ran. I ran out of the house into my car and prepared to move my seat forward and put the keys in the ignition. And there she was, crying to me because she knew I was trying to get away. As far away as I could and she was one of the only things to pull me back in. Her tears and her sadness filling her big brown eyes stared back at me and cut me in half.
I was not leaving forever. I was leaving though and that is all she heard. That is all she saw.
I wish I could cry. I wish I could show the world how bad it hurt and how much it changed things for me. The stress. The weakness I felt. The frustration. It consumed me and took over my thoughts, my actions and my emotions.
She went back to the porch and just watched me. That should have been enough to make me stay. But I needed to get away right then. Before I exploded. Before I lost all control and broke down and showed them all just how weak I was.
My eyes stung as I drove away, filling up with tears I refused to share with anyone. Those were mine, out of frustration, and I refused to let anyone see just how weak I felt.
My strength came from not being watched with their pity, their questions or their “concern”. It was mine and mine alone.
The stress was my blight. It is my blight. It is what will eventually break me. I chose this path and I will walk it with my head held high. But I am so lonely on this path. I am so scared I am going to get to the end and have nothing to show for it. I can honestly say that the drive to nowhere brought me back. It pulled me back to what I have done, created and brought to my children. Yet, I feel empty with the stress of always being alone. Having to do it all, be it all, see it all, and know it all. I don’t do any of those things well. Maybe one at a time but not all at once.
The constant noise, the constant needs of everyone else, the constant all of it. Sometimes I think I chose the wrong path. I chose the wrong life. I wish I had been selfish. I wish I had chosen me over everything else. But I love this view. So I live with the constant. And when my life blight gets to me I run. I always come back. But I run.