When the Silence Speaks Louder Than Words

The kitchen walls feels like it’s closing in on me, coming near, as I try to breath. Asking myself why it is so difficult, such normal everyday activity, I shouldn't be even thinking about.

I try to close my ears off with my hands, as the the baby’s screams pierce through every thought, every nerve, and my husband’s voice is there too it's nagging me making me feel small, endlessly.

The sounds it just won't stop. I try to bang my head to the wall, make it stop. I want it to stop. My hands, my hands are shaking as I stare at them for way longer then I should have.

I move, I have to, I have to move, preparing the bottle, make it stop, the crying it has to stop. I can feel it in my chest, it's so thight, the air around me, it's like I am captured inside a straightjacket. My mind it's everything all at once, Full and, hollow fused together.

Rage is inside me, I want to bang my head again, but I know that's futile, my body, I am disconnected from it. All I ever remember from it, is screaming the alarmbells going off, now it's numbness, numbness like a thick fog surounding my body and, invade it like posion.

It feels like an unrelenting cycle that never stops.

Everything around me, yells loud and, sillently for my attention.

The unemptied trash smells sharp and bitter taunting my noistrills overloading my senses.

Dishes clatter in the sink, a clock ticks too loud, a chair scrapes the floor, and the baby screams again. It alway's does, screaming, I wouldn't lie if there weren't moments when I think of silencing it with a pillow but, I can't.

Every sound, every detail, every presence is unbearable. It's like it's designed to tear me appart, to bresak me down.

Choas totality, and I’m trapped in it, deep inside it's void like a a storm of sight, sound, and tension. That never leaves no matter how hard I try to sail through it.

I silently scream, I open my mouth but, nothing comes out, Inside I'm breaking, shatering, well if I haven't already.

It isn’t NOT just tonight.

It’s every night, every morning, every moment. I can't stand it, I can't but, I have to.

The tiny things trigger the same exhaustion:

The baby fussing mid-feed, a dish left out, my husband’s sighs. He get's angry otherwise. His tempest that his rage, it flares up.

Every detail reminds me. This cycle doesn’t pause, doesn’t end, doesn’t forgive.

Every mistake I make it just adds more to my plate. It never stops.

I think back to the very first night I brought the baby home.

Sleep was impossible even when I was so exhausted, the weight of responsibility crushing, and I realized then that this wouldn’t just be hard days. It would be endless and, tonight, the memory crashes into the present, making the cycle feel eternal.

In the storm of sound and tension, I notice the smallest, details:

The trash untouched, the faint hum of the fridge, the baby’s tiny fists flailing. Each one is a hammer against my skull, and I am both molten anger and hollowed despair.

I push through as always.

I scream inside.

How long can a person hold everything inside before it shatters? Before it breaks? How much longer before I end myself.

Do they even notice the quiet scream behind chaos, behind the void?

I don’t know if anyone ever does. I stopped questioning it along time ago.

I am alone. Only I know the noise, the endless demands, the small triggers, and the weight that presses me to the floor in silence.

Everyone, always want something off me. A favour here, a little question there, something something never ending supply chain.

And, still, I push.

Still, I feed.

Still, I stand.

Still, I provide....

Because the world doesn’t stop demanding, and neither can I not, because I want it too but because, I have no choice.

And, my voice?

Forver unheard.

Silently fading like a whisper through the cold quite night. It withness the stars and, moon.

The sounds? They drowned me out, like a sinking ship.