Inner Turmoil...
As I sip my coffee I'm subject to a whirlwind of emotion not my own. Distant but vivid, I've grown used to their presence, but it doesn't make the sensation any less strange.
I listen to the ping ponging conversation before me, my head idly turning from one end of the table to the other, back and forth, as my husband and his father speak. There's an underlying sensation of disgust. Not at the pair of them and their endless conversation, but instead at the barrage of memories Kasey had begun to dig up. She could hardly bring herself to face them.
Each and every time she tried to reread the messages she had written the day prior, it was as if we could feel her eyes forcing themselves away. Her not-so-physical body recoiling from the thoughts.
There is sadness. Deep and all consuming. It doesn't quite reach me as I push my chair back and go to collect the dishes. My husband stands, giving his final words before making his way back to the bedroom. Another chair scrapes on the floor, and my father in law is gone.
Just us left. Just our thoughts. And those emotions.
For the past two days, I had seen someone cry without tears. Silently weep.
I had seen so many reactions, bubbling under the surface of my mind.
I reflect idly on the memories myself. It was a shared trauma, really. These were memories I had long since talked out and discussed. Dug up and picked apart myself. But never Kasey.
Never her.
She had always kept a safe distance. Watched from afar, seemingly unphased as I worked through them myself. She had suppressed and avoided that side of herself, never wanting to unpack.
The catalyst had been innocuous. Innocent. Never, could we have guessed, the impact of that little action. How could we have known it was going to cause a crack in the dam and lead to a flood?
I had watched as the waters encompassed her. Tossing her about in a sea of cold, dark emotions, leaving her grasping for anything to hold onto. Anything to save her from the current. Lungs burning as she tried desperately to see the surface and claw her way back up.
A moment's respite. That's all she needed. She wanted to catch her breath.
The sound of kibble clacking against metal fills the air as I pour a cup of food into the dog's bowl. I take a deep breath, quietly trying to remind her that moment is over. She's resurfaced. She's found fresh air. I pick up our cup of coffee and make my way back to the bedroom. My husband is sat at his computer, headset on, game booted. I rub his shoulder as I pass before going to sit at my own desk.
There's a moment of quiet. Of peace. The constant surge of emotions overlaid on my mind every second of the day had calmed, just for a moment. I look at the pattern on my cup and I smile.
Then I open our DMs.
Kasey's friends had written all throughout dinner. A few paragraphs of text awaited us. My thumb idly rubs the handle of my mug as we read. What he says is insightful. Makes her feel less alone.
“This is a heavy secret to bear. And I don't want to carry it alone.”
That's what she had told him before baring her soul.
With that weight off her shoulders, she seemed calmer. More at ease. It made me breathe a sigh of relief.
As I began to type, I knew it wasn't over. There were more waves on the horizon. More water behind that broken damn. I would have to face it right by her side.
But...I do think that's alright.