And after all these years, today I
allowed myself to feel all the pain, happiness, exhaustion and hopelessness.
I’ve been numb for more than two years. I have mastered the art of looking
cheerful and hopeful, masking the indifference with female rage, looking angry
when something looks unfair. What scares me the most is that I mastered the art
of using the “right” emotion when everything in me is barren. The flatness of
my voice is only heard by me when I stare in the mirror every morning, trying
to convince the reflection to choose to be human just for a day. Needless to say
that all my efforts were in vain.
Today is different - I thought how dull everything around me
is; the grayness of snowless winter usually plays cruel tricks on me and I
occasionally fall victim to my consciousness and give up on my robotic life for
an hour or two.
I decided to give myself an hour, barely made it for a whole
30 minutes. All the feelings flooded me at once; my senses were in overload as
if I were an old machine trying to install new software – totally incompatible.
My head spun, overwhelmed by moments I carefully locked in my mental metal box,
stored away like an emergency kit when I am badly hurt. And honestly, I didn’t
like it. Everything I had carefully “forgotten” and ignored came back slapping
me hard in the face. I even felt how my heart ached from every choice I had
made and deemed wrong. I felt the same weakness which scared me 7 years ago.
This was the same sensation that pushed me to seal off my humanity and start
the game of pretending.
In the beginning I was bad at it, really bad. It felt
impossible but then it clicked. I was looking in the mirror – eyes empty, no
will to live but my face moved differently. My mouth pronounced the right words
effortlessly, at the right time, with the correct intonation and even my eyes
started sparkling with the proper amount of joy. On that day my career of
perfecting the art of being heartless began. Don’t get me wrong, this wasn’t a
choice I made just to try. I made up my mind after another disappointment and
all the pain it brought to my already damaged soul. This was never my first
choice but my last chance to survive. And I did it. I survived… barely.
Now my safety mechanism has become my curse. It takes more
and more to go back to how I used to be, not to feel foreign to myself. And
when it becomes too heavy for me to handle, the switch turns on. Nothing – this
is my favourite setting. I admit it’s not the most brilliant plan but at least
I am still here – numb but here.
30 minutes – the only time in more than two years I felt the
grief and love I can give to anyone and to myself. And when the pain is
intolerable - game on. I turned off, again. Enough tears, enough ache,
enough frustration, enough anger. I am letting the protective shell to consume
me until I find another way to heal. In the meantime, I will keep performing as
if I am living normally, day by day.
