Anchor

I put on twenty layers of mascara and red lipstick before I walk out the door. You can't cry in red lipstick, and who wants layers of thick black tears running down their faces? I cry when I'm angry, I cry when I'm sad, and I cry when I'm happy. If I experience an intense emotion, it usually ends in tears. I drown in my feelings. I don't swim in them. Today I woke up gasping for air. I hope I don't go under again.

Every Friday I watch the sunrise on the river. Watching the orange hues over the bridge and soft blue behind it. Seeing the reflection in the water, I think of what it feels like to come out of the darkness. It feels like waking up after a long slumber. Pushing yourself to the surface after being buried alive. Large open spaces after being cramped in a cavern. The outside after being locked in a cage.

After years of captivity do you walk out and trust the people around you or have you gotten so used to a cell that freedom feels like a trap? Happiness is beautiful but when sadness latches onto you it's hard to let go when it releases you. You grasp onto it hoping it will stay.

"Why would you do that I ask myself?" Shrugged shoulders and a head tilt, "I don't know." There isn't an answer to every question.

I've given up what gives me warmth in the winter because it gave me more reasons to die. The whisky never treated me poorly but I cheated with wine and beer. They treated me like an abusive spouse treats their partner. Like a disposable piece of trash, non-recyclable. I woke up with anxiety, feeling like a piece of me was missing. My mind a mess and my heart pounding. I've always been a little broken. Hangovers took more pieces.

Secretly I had hoped that saying no to alcohol would mean it would all go away. Insomnia, the paranoia, the anger, I wanted it to disappear along with my cravings for comfort at the bottom of a cheap bottle. It doesn't work that way. I gave up something I love because it made things worse. I admire that decision every day. I just wish it could all be that simple. I want, badly, to be able to give up the mood swings, the overreactions, the unfiltered anger, and the tears that won't quit. Oh, god, I wish, I wish that voice in the back of my head would go away. They're so mean.

I stand looking over into the water, my phone in my hand. I wonder what it would take for me to climb the wall. To stand up and to jump. I follow the dark blue current and it turns to an orange hue. The reflection of the rising sun on the river wakes me from my walking slumber. What would it take for me to stay? Hope, it keeps me anchored in this life.