A number of those issues droned, quietly, in the back of her mind.
Patiently waiting their chance to build into a full, painful, memory.
All in all, she considered bad memories a sight better than the seamless threads of anxiety that crept in the corners of her mind, greedily awaiting their 15 seconds of fame.
Salvating over some trigger that would shine a gastly light into the recesses.
So she could watch the terrible things skitter onto center stage.
It was worse, years ago. Especially after the birth of each of her children.
There would be times when she was completely sucked in.
Lost in a black hole, spiraling downwards, into worst case scenarios.
The primise was always the same.
If she wasn’t prepared, who would be!?
How could she most effectively control things? Protect those she loved?
There was always a problem to solve, a wrong to right, a fight to win.
Even her dreams were of this nature.
Stressful, confusing, full of twist and turns. A valiant struggle for solution.
In short.
She always needed, a plan.
Almost 2 years of therapy, a few trial runs on different medications, a divorce, and a lot of mindset changes had helped, quite a bit.
She still had her moments tho.
Everyone does.
Those moments are like snowflakes or the salt crystals within teardrops.
Pain, is never shaped exactly the same.
She cherished it, in herself, in others.
Coddling it, in a backwards way.
As of somehow, holding on, analyzing every angle; studying fear itself, would somehow, make it change.
Or at the very least, one could use the debris for polishing.
What is the point of pain if not to serve as a back light, as gloss, for that which we should appreciate.
This was the story of her brain.
A painful memory rose up now.
Triggered by innocent conversation.
Nevertheless, she went back.
During that particular 24 hours, a regular, but stressful day had bled into a terrible night (which happened a few times a month, even with intervention).
This particular time the shift in her mentality crept on slowly the night before his 5:30 a.m., 12hr shift.
They both felt the unease in the room. Restlessness permeated the air.
It swelled like a cold front blowing in from the West.
He saw the change as her brown eyes darkened to black.
The light in her withdrew, curling into itself, as she became more tense.
The storm became tangible.
Bending trees, pelting rain, shrouding the sky.
Curt responses, crackling silence.
Tears falling, shoulders turned coldly away.
Distain and outage had come to play.
He adamantly, tearfully, refused to stay up with her.
Refused to listen or comforter her any longer.
It was one of those nights.
Her mind seethed with anxiety, fear, melancholy, sadness, anger and despair.
There was no right answer, no salve, no antidote for the venom within.
He all but knew it.
She assumed as much.
Yet, selfishly, she expected him to stay up and try. Again, and again.
All the plans for tomorrow mattered so little then..
My life, Now. 