and on wednesdays, we wear hurt
I know…Wednesday is long gone (like yesterday). And I also know how the line really goes- “And on Wednesdays, we wear pink.” I would love to just wear pink and call it a day. But I can’t breathe. My heart hurts. I want to cry but I am just too damn tired anymore. Wednesdays are supposed to be the happy day (aside from Friday, of course), the half-way point, the “over the hump,” the downhill ride on the roller coaster of the week. But Wednesday was nothing but pain. Wednesday’s seem to be the longest day of the longest week even though each week seems to get longer in the worst of ways. This Wednesday meant checking my phone incessantly for messages but there were none. I got the annoying business calls, the texts to schedule “x-y-z,” and arrange activities. The messages I wanted just weren’t there. There was no “good morning” and the “hey, gorgeous” stopped decades ago. On Wednesday, my heart needed it but instead it got a big dose of pain and reality.
Wednesday was the 2×4 to the back of the head. Wednesday was screaming at me to brace myself for the train hurtling toward me at full speed. It was as if Wednesday took on a personality all her own although I would have preferred Wednesday Adams to my Wednesday. At least with the Adams variety death is certain and quick. My Wednesday had different ideas. “This is your reality,” she quipped. “You thought you were alone before, just you wait.” The minutes dragged by. The phone died a little faster today. Had it really only been 15 minutes? I swore it felt like 3 hours. Every time my phone vibrated with a notification, Wednesday seemed to cackle a little as the inevitable disappointment washed over my face. “Who would want a used up, waste of space like you?” Wednesday whispered in my ear. This I was able to shake off after planning my work day on Thursday. See? Someone needed me so that was invalid. But it still gnawed at me.
My new look seems to be a blank stare especially on Wednesday. It’s the realization that nothing is changing. Another week has sucked 2 years away from my life, maybe 3. I am still here. I am still miserable. I am still reeling from the thought of the decisions that stare me down every time I close my eyes. And sleep…I kissed that goodbye weeks ago. Now I wake up at 1am, then 230, sometimes 430, and then again at 5. Sometimes I give up around the 3am mark and drag myself out of bed. My brain won’t shut off anyway so what’s the point of laying in that miserable, loveless bed? For some reason Wednesday seemed a little harder this week. I smiled at work but inside I was dying. I know I need to be ok being alone, to learn to thrive being alone but it seems like the road that will never end if I take it. All I see are the people waiting to use me when I suddenly turn up alone. All I see is the massive amount of confidence I DON’T possess that is crucial to being alone and being ok. And I can’t. So on Wednesday, I did wear pink…in an effort to hide the hurt that was eating me one molecule at a time from the inside out.
Maybe next Wednesday…