It’s hard to tell if my tunnel vision has gotten worse quickly, maybe I am sinking inward, or possibly, the winter seems to be swallowing us faster than ever before. The cold weather seems to be sitting silently, just in the shadows of the day. The fog that rolls along the hills in the morning reminds me of a horror film, and our days in the sun seem to be fleeting fast.

Fall Comes Every Year

pixundfertig / Pixabay

It’s almost a mantra that I have become accustomed to telling myself several times a day. Usually, a welcomed sight, the color on the trees, the cool breeze that hits your face as you sweat, and holidays creeping up just around the corner. Yet, this year seems different.

I find myself more lost these days. Life without a goal in mind, I am just wandering from one moment to the next; there is no end game, no hope for comfort, just a never-ending staleness.

Mastering The Art Of Isolation

There is much to be done, but a silent whisper in the back of my mind reminds me it doesn’t seem to matter. I try to give the children moments of reprieve from isolation, a moment at a park where they can play with another child without worry.

I sulk over to the side, within arms reach of the children, but with an apparent distance between myself and the other parents. I want them to live freely and not be afraid, but the anxiety that riddles me when they do is starting to boil closer and closer to the surface with each passing day.

Two small boys that see their mother cower into a corner and fall silent when someone draws too close will eventually notice. I fear that I will not be able to explain that their beloved mother is flawed, and they will find fault with the situation instead of placing blame where blame is due.

No One Sees Me Sinking

Photo by James Wheeler, SInking on Pexels

Perhaps one of the biggest triggers of this discomfort is the fact that everyone seems to have become so complacent with just… surviving. When someone looks at you, even if you make eye contact, their eyes are blank, and their mind is a million miles away from where their feet are planted.

In a world that I had become comforted and at home with isolation and the solitary confinement I had placed upon myself, still, the distance between a person standing in front of you and their mind is eerily overwhelming. It certainly brings several questions to the surface, my most troublesome being, ‘How can anyone care for another if they don’t see them?’

 Lacking Compassion

The only eyes I have seen in months were those of my children. A specifically unsettling thought, but painfully true. The love in their little eyes frequently brings me to a pause; the concerned face of a boy of only 6 when his mother has wandered too far off into her own mind snaps me back to reality.

I make sure to stop. I pause that moment for a second and kiss then gently on the forehead. I sometimes find myself saying aloud, “I see you,” in hopes that they will never feel quite as unseen as I do recently.

Spilling Out From Within

The awkward distance isn’t only between two people. I find it hard to look myself in the eyes in the mirror recently as well. Once one of the only things I liked about myself, it’s almost as if now I will look into the mirror and see the deformed and hideous woman I  created in my mind. As though my self-image will become real, and I will be left to walk the earth as the person I hate most, the person I see myself to be.

On the other hand, I suppose it may be more terrifying to think that I will not see anything. I will simply not be there, not even for myself. That the people who don’t see me when they look in my direction will be correct, and instead of just being invisible or unable to be cared for, I will simply be gone.

The Hope That Springs Eternal

They see me. These two little beautiful creatures I have created see me in my best light. They don’t see nor understand the darkness yet. They simply comprehend the lack of light. Hard to explain to someone so precious that sometimes the darkness lacks so much more than just light.

I can hold the silent hope that maybe one day they will never need to understand that fact. The darkness will always be a place of peace, and the monsters that hide in the shadows are no scarier than those that show their faces in the light.

Their days are also getting colder, they are getting shorter, and just as if it is the first time, they see the colors form on the trees and are in awe of the clear night sky. They are saddened by the flowers that are blooming less frequently yet, are ready to take on the day and all it has to give.

My line between good and evil waits silently between the mirror and me, yet, I hold angels in my arms every day. There must be something wrong with me that I still find myself sinking in the darkness—still, a memory forms and rolls from my eyes.

When the most important things in the world watch my every move, what is wrong with me that I long for someone to look into my eyes and notice that I am there. Maybe I need someone to see the darkness I would never allow them to see. I need someone to accept that I am sinking and come to get me.

Not from a tower, not to fight a dragon or risk their life to touch my hand. Just to take notice, to see me struggling, and offer a friendly hand. Simply to see the one thing that continues to try to concur my very essence… me.

  • The Un-Traditional Mother

To Read The Last Entry To This Series Please Visit HERE