You know that feeling when an anvil drops on your head? And everyone around you is just walking around like things are still normal and you wonder why they don’t notice that you’re carrying around an anvil on your head.

Your heart is racing out of your chest and your breath must be so loud the neighbors can hear. Your eyes darting around the room seeing only the danger, sharp corners that could cut a little forehead, light fixtures that could collapse on your child, furniture that could topple. Your body is both frozen and ready to run. And your mind… well, it’s just trying to catch up with your body so that it can figure out what the hell is going on.

Finally, you find a moment of solace in a dark and quiet space (closet). Your mind catches up with your body and you try to think your way out from under the anvil.

You look around and try to breathe in the beautiful fall colours, your children’s smiles, but the weight is still smothering you. You can’t breath. You are suffocating. Someone is crying about a crayon. Nothing matters anymore, your entire being is focused on trying to breathe.

You start to think about why this could be happening again? But you know the answer. You know the truth. It’s because the gods have shit on you and they shit anvils. That’s why.

Even though it’s dark and terrifying with your head squished under a rock, there is weird comfort in familiarity. If you just dissociate, it’s not so scary. If you can forget everything you used to love, you can hide the pain of being pulled from them. The warm cozy darkness is so tempting. But a part of you knows that this is not where you really want to be.

And you try to remember that once upon a time (yesterday) you had a life off of the floor. You had a family and you loved them and they loved you. You liked living and doing stuff. But the more hours/days that pass, the harder it is to believe things that seem so far off.

And there you are, again, back where you were. That hole that you worked so hard to climb out of. One blink and you are right back in the pit. You fall so fast. You find yourself hugging the wall again. Trying to keep your feet down. Like there are two people inside of you. Pushing and pulling.

But though you’ve been here before, you’re different this time. You’ve been feeding the right wolf. He’s gotten stronger. He’s pulling you back faster than ever before. Back to your life. The anvil disappears as suddenly (and as randomly) as it fell and you can breathe.

So you kiss your kids and your husband like a drowned man kisses the beach. And you convince yourself that it was the last time, but like the Wile E Coyote, no matter what you do, you are really just bidding time before the next anvil falls.

Coyote_under_anvil

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3 thoughts on “Let the anvils ring

  1. I. Get. This.
    You are so right that sometimes it’s just easier to stay where you are rather than fight to where you used to be…because that’s the pain in it too…that when you are constantly thinking of that finish line and you’re so far away from it…gah. Hate it.
    This describes that perfectly.
    Stupid anvils.

    Like

  2. Ugh, I know. The anvils are a mighty thing and I hate them. They are thieves of the worst kind. And just when you think they’re gone . . . BAM, you get knocked down again. Keep fighting the good fight. And thank you for your kind words on my blog. We’re all put here to take care of each other. XO

    Like

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