ache

The ache is back. I know, I just know it won't be there in the morning. But it's here now, and it hurts. I asked Chris, "What do you do when you feel this?", and I pushed my fist into his chest...hard.
He said, "I don't feel that way."
"Really? 'Cause sometimes you look like you do."
"No, it's not like that. Everything just kind of spreads out, flat."

I don't know what that's like. Heartache has always been just that...heart ache. How do you get up, move, speak, breathe when you hurt in the core area of your body? And how do I cook, clean, love, and live while I'm just trying to be still?

Those questions only increase the pain. The guilt, the shame, the fury of it all take me deeper and deeper. The chaos spins in my head. My vision is too rapid. My thoughts are racing beyond measure. I have a yell in my chest that would go on forever if I dared to let it rise. I feel like I will explode from the pressure and fly into a million tiny pieces.

I close my eyes and try to make the world disappear. No noise, no light, no sensations. If I can stay this way long enough I'll eventually catch my breath. Then it will begin to fade...first the rapid thoughts, then a little pain, then a little chaos. The vision takes longer. As I open my eyes, the light hurts. I want whispers at first, then slowly my senses stabilize. The chaos flatlines, and my mind is numb. The ache will not stop until sleep comes, which can take minutes or hours.

I know, I just know it won't be there in the morning.

The road goes on and on...