I need space right now. I need to not be with anyone; not talk to anyone. I need to be alone, solitary in confinement.
I walk this road alone. No matter how many friends I have, it comes down to there is only me. Only me to be responsible for three children’s lives. Only me to make sure there is food and clothing, shelter. Only me to carry the weight of the world.
Bubba told Serenity that she needs to get a job so she can see what it feels like to have the weight of the world on her shoulders. He said that she needs to know what he feels like. I wish I could tell him that he doesn’t have the first clue what it is like to have the weight of the world on your shoulders.
When we were together, I carried the house and the kids. He simply worked. He played with us when we were convenient for him. He didn’t worry about school, homework, dinner, showers, bedtime, anything to do with the children other than to stake his claim that they were his. He went to work, came home, and expected us to stay out of his way.
I don’t get a moment to myself. I get five minutes to myself in the car four times a day, going to and from work. That is the extent of my aloneness. Even when I escape to my laundry room for peace, it happens that they come looking for me or text me to find out where I am.
I’ve let my armor plating and force fields fall. They are no longer in place. I don’t know how to put them back. The children touch. They approach and I cringe, knowing that a hug is needed and that I have to give them what they need. My skin crawls with touch now. Please don’t touch me. Don’t come near me. I hurt. I ache. Your touch is painful to me. Please step back. One foot, two feet, step back. I need space that doesn’t exist.
I dream of running away. Finding a place where no humans exist. A place where only birds sing and the rays of sun can wash over me and renew me. Where is my respite? It doesn’t exist.
My life is to be only this. Wake up, work, take care of children, sleep. Repeat again tomorrow. Repeat again the day after and all the days after. It is a never-ending sea of need; needs of others. Never what I need.
I feel selfish, wanting space. I can’t demand it. I can’t ask for it. Shane touches me. I cringe away inwardly because I can’t let him see that his touch pains me. I am his mother, his refuge. How devastating to know that your rock balks at being your rock.
I long to escape. I long to be selfish. I long to disappear. To just be me. To not be anyone’s employee or mother or friend or lover. I am empty, depleted. I have nothing more to give. Nothing more to share. I need to hoard my resources to myself. My touch is mine. I need to remember that I have a right to not give it.
I have work to do, bills to pay, children to raise, a relationship to think on. There is nothing for me. There is only everyone else and their demands on me.
Space. Where is mine?