The Wheels on the Bus

I am sinking again, slipping into a slow fade; and just like every other time I never saw it coming. The life of a super mom is not for me, it’s twists and turns fill me with an anxiety too mild for medication but too extreme for my mind to cope.

I have let myself go. I’m running in the street with my two year old in order to avoid the ice that covers the sidewalk. Running because I’m late and tired and catching this next bus is not an option it is mandatory. I feel like I’m in a perpetual futile battle against time that takes it’s psychological toll because I know I’m never going to win it. Sometimes I sulk in the corner and do nothing. I simply exist in a heap of blankets wasting away with time because even if chose to be productive there would not be enough for me to do everything I needed to do. So I hide and wait for time’s passage. It is a bully to me, dictating my thoughts and actions and relentlessly reminding me that I’ll always thirst for more but never be satiated. I will never have enough. I will never…not ever…

This woman in the seat next to me is practically on top of me, breathing in my air and suffocating me. I hate her and what she represents in this moment. I think I hate all of the people here on this bus with no regard for my privacy and my fragility. They look me directly in the face as I blink back tears. Even now they are looking over my shoulder as I type this and I resent their presence. Until I’ve reconciled how to be alone without being lonely I have to face them and live amongst them.

The wheels on the bus go round; I feel like I’m drowning in this sea of people….