the flood

Maybe it was pregnancy or maybe sobriety... suddenly my mind was packed full of things I wished I could forget. Things I had never thought about since they had happened. Life wasn't getting easier for me, especially not at work.  I was in so much pain and still feeling angry and suicidal, I worried that anything less than unwavering  support would send me right over the edge. I felt as though I couldn't talk about myself at all. Everything I had to say was negative and made everyone feel uncomfortable. Coming to terms with the fact I was going to be a mother with chronic pain was literally crushing me. At night when he left for work I would sit and cry and think about the childhood I had wished I had. I would think about the life inside me and how badly I wanted my child to grow up with the exact opposite.  I didn't want this baby to deal with any anger in our home, but that was all I felt most days. I tried to work through the overwhelming flood of memories that seemed to erupt nightly.  Memory by memory I cried for the little girl that couldn't get away. Then I would hear that knock... That knock that meant despite the miserable company I had become, I was still loved. The knock that sent me on walks in the night to go find treats. The knocks that brought an ear that wanted to hear me. The knocks that brought me laughter, joy and relief. I wasn't in less pain and I wasn't over my trama but I wasn't alone.