A Painful Story — “For Today”

She rises before the sun. She doesn’t
make coffee. She reads no newspaper. She limps to the shower…a
trail of red runs behind her. She feels the water–warm and
refreshing–attempt to cleanse the wounds she bares. She scrubs at
some places, willing the evidence of her pain to be removed. Other
spots she will cover in the mirror. A dollop of foundation here. A
caking on of powder there. It is hard to hide gaping wounds, but
people will surely notice if she doesn’t at least try.

The sun rises and her car beckons her
to come—another morning to sit with angry strangers on a slow road.
The music is nice. At times it stitches a few wounds together while
she waits for the world to move. This alleviates the puddle of red
she knows she will find if she looks down at her seat. But she
arrives to the place. This is the hardest part. Here they are
present—those who look to her for wisdom, secrets to alleviating
their pain and providing structure to their chaos. And there are
those who look at her with inquisitive eyes—does she have an
answer? Can she help anyone? Does her tool box have any skills in it?
They’re all watching, that is apparent.

She bundles up, determined that the
blood from her gaping heart will not be what defines her today. After
all…she did get out of bed and it’s worth nothing if they know. She
puts her smile on hoping it distracts them from the pieces of her
she’s missing. Maybe no one will notice if she says the right joke or
has the right amount of sarcasm to make them laugh. With a winning
smile anyone can be fooled, right? She prays that the answers come
when they ask questions. “For today, let it be enough that I
understand their pain, Lord. For today, please let them find some
peace and power in simply being heard. Let it be enough that someone
is willing to sit with them in their brokenness. Please, God, do the
work that I have no power to do…and…please, for today, divert
their attention away from my brokenness. May they know I am
human…but not see the blood stains I am trying to hide.”

She walks with a confidence, hoping
that it hides the limp she now carries in her battle-wounded body.
For today…she will make it. She answers the question and is
forthright with her shortcomings. After all, they know she is
learning. For today…she will have a little grace for herself. She
knows it is the only way to make it. She watches the woman pull her
feet up in her chair into fetal position and strains to understand
the words that barely make it out through her sobs. She wishes she
could tell her she was just there, in that same pain, the day before,
just this morning even. She wishes she could tell her to keep
fighting…but is it hypocrisy when you don’t want to fight yourself?
She chooses not to linger there but focuses on the pain that sits in
front of her from the man who is angry. “Only pussies cry, not real
men.” Ouch. She can see the pain in his quivering lip and hear his
self-loathing as he admits to the thirty pack he drinks every
morning. Wow. He’s suffering and does not even believe he is allowed
to feel and express it. She focuses. For today…it’s enough to sit
with him and help him find courage. “You had to use this defense
mechanism. You weren’t allowed to feel. You couldn’t feel to be able to do
your job…and now that world is colliding with the one where you’re
a dad with a daughter. Having a daughter elicits emotions, even the
kind that make you cry. That is conflicting.” Maybe for
today…that will be enough.

She finally gets to leave, eight hours
is enough to sit with so much suffering. For the 15 minute car ride
she lets her smile fade, the tears come. Water-proof mascara is her
best friend these days. The tears come and she allows herself to lose
it, just for 15 minutes. She sobs and gasps for breath, this is the
realest of real. She faces her own darkness.

But then it’s time to wrap up again and
shine the smile. She urges her inner child to play with the precious
kids—it is her job after all. They need love and attention. Her
inner child is the only one capable of providing that love right now.
She sits back and tries to simply keep the wounds under wraps and the
blood from seeping through the bandages while she watches the
5-yr-old in herself play with the kids she loves so dearly. They
deserve her, that 5-yr-old, she has spunk.

She checks to make sure her wounds
aren’t gushing; nothing like traumatizing children. She can’t be held
responsible for that. For this moment…she will hold it together.
They tell her they love her when she kisses them goodnight. The pure
rawness of their little hearts busts a few stitches and allows for a
few wounds to be revealed. But only the minor ones…they don’t think
anything of her silliness.

The house gets quiet. This is when all
the demons come out to play. They tear at her already tattered
clothes, wanting to reveal her for all of her brokenness. She allows
them to. Whats the point in refusing? They have played mostly nice
all day long. 14 hours is a long time to ask them to stay away. They
dance and play images, forcing her to relive awful emotions and
memories. Not for long though, the parents will return soon. She
asks them to go away while she cleans and does work. They refuse but
say they will play in the corner for a short while. For the
moment…she is “fine.”

The parents come. “Are you okay?”
She knows they know she’s lying but for tonight…they let her off
the hook. “See you tomorrow.” The demons skip behind her…the
trail of blood hopefully not something the parents will notice.
Again…alone…in her car…the bandages come off. Pain…he is so
rude. He clenches her chest shut tight and forces sobs out of her
mouth pretending he cares. He blurs her vision with the moment she
most wants to forget. The good that only brings heartache and the
devastation that threatens to stop her heart entirely. She’s too
stubborn to stop the car. They won’t get another second alone with
her in the car. She drives…slowly, but intently. Bed. Jesus.
Please…just get me to the bed. There is some refuge. Pain doesn’t
let up. He and his friends know she’ll be home soon and there will
come a point when she will force them to go inside. But she
knows…they really know she is theirs for the rest of the night.

She makes it home…her family, they
already know. It’s not a good night. She marches up the stairs and
wishes for energy to get just one more thing done. But pain…he’s
got her and all of the pieces left of her heart. She looks in the
mirror, knowing that today is the day her eyes have turned black.
They have lost all their beautiful color from the trail of sorrow,
grief, and sadness she has left behind. She knows today is the day
that along with the blood from every wound she knows she cannot truly
hide, so has drained the color of her eyes: the light to her spirit.
She goes to brush her teeth, because at least if she’s going to be
depressed she won’t have the dentist upset with her. And then she
takes the courage to look up.

And for today…the light isn’t
completely gone. Her bloodshot eyes still shine a brilliant blue. And
just for today…she knows she has marched on.  

(Don’t miss that ^^ goodness. Click it.)