I Screamed in the Car...

I couldn't say it out loud, because if I did, I wouldn't stop.

I couldn't say "I'm drowning."

I couldn't say "I screamed until I tasted blood, because my check engine light came on and broke something inside me."

I couldn't say "I wanted to crawl under my desk and sob until the moisture of my tears cause the drywall to mold around me."

~~

Instead, I packed four lunches.

Instead, I made sure my husband had his meds packed in his lunch.

Instead, I brought the kids to school, and drove myself to work, and chipped away at policies and procedures that had me staring into an abyss of legalese.

I subdued the tears, and pushed the brakes on a crash out in waiting.

I just kept moving.

~~

I couldn't say out loud that I'm tired.

Tired of being a bangmaid.

A nurse.

A servant.

A caretaker.

A calendar.

I couldn't say "I love my family with every fiber of my crocheted heart, but I am coming loose and frayed from the weight of being everything to everyone."

I couldn't say "I can't remember the last time I did something for me (and only me) without guilt tagging along like a needle poking out of my arm.

~~

I didn’t say that I’m angry.

Or that I miss who I used to be.

I didn't say that I want to work on my garden without being haunted by a house unpacked thanks to renovations.

I didn't say that the to-do list is haunting me like a fanged bat that won't untangle from my mind.

I didn't say that I still bleed to create in a world where AI made it impossible for my business to run, when I wrote and edited for myself and others who wanted to make things that mattered.

~~

I can't say it out loud.

Someone always needs something.

Time is short. And I don't have enough of it.

I can't say it out loud, because my worth is measured in tasks completed.

In dinners cooked.

In forms submitted.

In brush strokes and hammering.

In service to everyone but me.

~~

I will myself forward.

To the desperate need to be self-sufficient.

To stand in the middle of my yard barefoot, pulling weeds from between bricks, and sowing seeds that will feed my family.

Not because I have to. Because I want to.

I don't want to only be home to everyone else.

I want to come home to myself.

A thriving, living woman.

I want to be self-sufficient.

~~

I'm begging for the time to pass, when my children will be more independent.

Not for any lack of loving, but for the desperation to remember what it's like to hear my own voice in my head.

I want to look at what I create, and see myself within it.

Not just mom.

Not just wife.

Not just default caretaker.

Not just administration.

Just... me.

~~

But I didn’t say that out loud.

I put my head down, clacked the keyboard and the needles.

And kept pushing through.