I'm Alright

It was morning and the sun was shining through my windows. I turned my head slightly in my bed to see my clock on the wall and saw that it was only 7:00 a.m. Seven fucking a.m. "Mommy!" My name was being screamed through my closed door by my little girl. This happened every morning, and usually, my response was more of a cheery one, but not this morning. This morning I was not in a cheery mood, so I just told her I'd be there in a minute. I flopped my head back down into my pillows and let out a long sigh. So it begins. The day begins again just as it did day after day. Morning after morning it was the same. Baby girl woke me up every morning screaming my name, and telling me she's hungry. I get up and make a half-ass effort to make us breakfast before I headed out to drop her off at school and me to work. I made a quick breakfast, painting my best smile for my daughter, as she went on and on about a dream she had. Normally, these mornings were the best, but lately, I felt numb to these things. I'm alright.

I went to drop my daughter off at school, smiling at the teacher who retrieved her from the carpool line. I drove off and got rid of the painted smile. I headed to work, not thinking about anything at all. Normally I sing in my car on the way to work, jamming to my playlists. Not this morning. I didn't jam to my favorite music or even enjoy my morning routine with my daughter. My breakfast was tasteless, and I felt emotionless. I'm alright. I say this to myself and others around who ask how I am doing. I say to them what they want to hear, what they care to hear. I say to them what they need to hear because the truth would be uncomfortable for them. I walk around thinking someone will see. Someone will see that I am wearing a mask with a painted smile. Someone will see that I am drowning in a pool that is constantly filling with water. I look around, and no one sees. No one asks. No one cares. I'm alright.

I go on with my workday as if nothing was wrong, talking and smiling like I am supposed to. I worked my day on like nothing was wrong. Numb to the office jokes, numb to the smiles, and friendly gestures. I didn't care about any of it. I didn't care about anything. But, no one notices. No one will notice either. What I was feeling was on the inside, not the outside. I could smile and nod on the outside, pretend I am ok. On the inside, there was a war going on within me. I ended my workday like any other day, waving to my coworkers and saying my goodbyes. I got into my car, on my way to retrieve my daughter. My phone rang and I noticed my sister calling. I spoke to her for a few minutes, letting her convince me to let her come over. "Hey, are you ok?" she asks. "I'm alright".

My sister comes over, playing with my daughter, and doing her bedtime routine for me. I'm thankful for that, as I am always thankful for the help. We sit with glasses of wine after the baby girl is asleep, talking and chopping it up. I laugh on the outside, I smile on the outside and pretend to be enjoying myself. My sister sits her glass down and stares into my eyes. I smile again, hopi ng she stops. My sister asks me again, but in a more serious tone, "Are you ok?" Unexpectedly, I pause. I can't seem to say my automated response. The words, "I'm alright", will not come out. I hate myself at that moment for pausing, for being this vulnerable. My sister then embraces me, rubbing my back and telling me to let it out. "Let go of me!" I am screaming on the inside, I am screaming at her "I'M ALRIGHT!!" on the inside. On the outside, I am crying. I am sobbing, letting it all out. I am not alright. I had not been alright for a long time. My sister sits there with me, she sits with me in my moment of darkness. She sits with me comforting me and my drowning soul. She sees what others have failed to see, she sees what was inside. She sees that I am not alright. She lifts my head from her now wet with tears shoulder, to look me in the face. "It's ok not to be alright." I sob harder now, uncontrollably. I am crying for months and months of not being ok and pretending to be. I was crying for the pain I was feeling inside, for the many months that I wore that painted smile. My sister rubs my back still, making comforting shushing sounds with no words. She didn't say much because she didn't have to. She knew what I needed. I needed her to sit in this darkness with me, and soothe me. I needed her to tell me it was ok. It was ok not to be alright.