Weakest Link

I know you don’t understand.
It is so difficult for me
to make the words
come out of my mouth.

To tell you,
yes, PTSD is something
you live with day to day.
And no, I am not the type
to cry in front of you,
when things are too much for me.

I will never face you
with anything but a smile.
Because you see,
it takes all of my energy
to gather my emotions
into a tight ball
inside of me.
I must ensure they are packaged,
watertight.
There is no energy left
for explaining my thought processes
to you.

There is no energy left
to talk you through
all of the rushing thoughts
that cloud my mind
and dampen my humour.

Yes I turn up every day.
Yes I listen to all of you.
Yes I plough through my work,
machine-like in my determination.
I know it must be
a contradicting image.

But sometimes
the calmest waters
run the deepest.
And just because
you can’t see it
doesn’t mean there isn’t
a swirling torrent
raging beneath the surface.

How can I explain to you,
that I cannot
‘Just switch off’
That I cannot stop my mind
from racing.

That I am all at once,
questioning, analysing,
losing track of my thoughts,
assessing human nature
to my very despair.

That once I am at breaking point,
I need to set a boundary.
I need to say to you,
that to prevent myself becoming ill
I need to be allowed one day.
Just one day.
To not be the backbone
of our group.
To not be the one
who always holds it together.

Just one day.
This day.
I cannot be your support.
I need you to support me.

Without judging me.
Without whispering.
Without gloating,
because I made you look good today
by falling apart
so catastrophically.

Just allow me one day,
please.

 

no face woman © 2017

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