At home, I struggle to function. I force myself to do the dishes and laundry, to make lunch and dinner for hubby to take to work. I smile and talk to the nanny and to hubby. I giggle and play with Kat. But I’m not here. I’m back in the room in my head, hiding as far away as I can. It’s safer here. I don’t want to feel anything.
Eventually, hubby leaves for work, and Kat and the nanny leave for a play date. I go sit in my swing room, breakdown and cry. Big sobs of despair, of fear, of I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
I get out my journal and write. I type a long email to Bea. I shorten the email by a lot, removing the paragraphs that talk about how not okay I actually am. Because I am okay, I have to be okay. I admit in the email why I’m afraid for her to read it.
I’m afraid though, of two things. (And I’m afraid of saying what I’m afraid will happen). One, that you’ll be disgusted with me and you’ll leave because you won’t be able to stand even the idea of being around me, and I’ll be all alone with this mess in my head. Two, you’ll read it and see exactly how scattered and messy my thoughts can be sometimes and you will think I’m crazy.
And then I hit send. Bea responds back later that night. She says that she won’t abandon me no matter what I’ve written. She says we have come this far together and that she isn’t going anywhere. She says to trust her. I go back and forth all evening. I read her email again and again. I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid.
Middle of the night, another disturbing dream, and I realize I can not do this alone. I am drowning in it, doubting everything, and the longer I hold this in the bigger and bigger it gets. I email Bea. I say that I trust her. That I’m scared. That I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for anyone to know. That she can read it. And that I’m positive something really bad is going to happen now. It takes me 40 minutes, but I hit send.
The morning is rough. I’m frozen and scared, Bea hasn’t emailed back yet. I try to distract myself, but I still compulsively check my email despite the fact I have it set to notify me if she responds. Her emailed response comes right as I have convinced myself that she is gone, I’m too bad, too disgusting for her to continue helping.
As much as I have been wanting, needing an email from her, now that there is an email in my inbox, I’m afraid to open it. My hands are shaking, my heart is pounding, and I have a feeling of dread in my stomach, but I open the email.
She says that it’s okay; she read it and nothing bad happened, and nothing bad is going to happen. She says she felt scared for me when she read it–and sad at the confusion I was feeling and how alone and awful it must have been. She says that she understands the situation and circumstances, and even what I did, and she’s not leaving.
I feel relieved, and disbelieving, and unsure, like maybe it really is okay, but maybe this is a calm before the storm. I can’t work it out in my head. It’s confusing to have something different than what you expected happen.
I don’t know what to make of this. But I’m not alone anymore. Bea know some of the ugly parts of me, the bad thing, and she’s still here. I don’t understand how or why, but I’m so, so grateful.