Breathing

I feel anxiety simmering beneath the surface every single day. It's been 9 months, 2 weeks and 2 days since you've been gone.  Most days, I manage to keep it together because I am so busy. Work, kids, cooking, cleaning, bills, shopping, laundry.  Each day is packed with so many to-do's, and at the end of the day, I find myself exhausted with much still left on my to-do list. Instead of praying to the Lord or thinking about you, Mom, I drown myself in wine. I know I shouldn't drink so much, but it's the only thing that takes away that nagging anxious feeling.  The only thing that fills that terribly big hole in my heart that used to be occupied by you. I miss you so much, lady.  I wish I had been better able to express how much I love you when you were still here. I don't know that words would have been sufficient though. Some feelings are so strong that words only seem to insult them.

I need you, Mom.  I need to talk to you so badly.  I feel so alone, and only you would understand.  And this gnawing, anxious state in which I constantly live is magnified by your absence.  Because at my core, I need to be taken care of, Mom.  I need to feel protected and cared for.  But I'm a wife and a mother.  My very existence and purpose are to take care of others.  I feed and bathe and shop for and care for everyone else. But I have no one to care for me.  And it's lonely sometimes, Mom. And I need you.  I need you and I love you so much.  Life without you feels like a weight.  And I can't breathe, Mom.  I can't breathe, and I'm always anxious and I just wanna see you.  I want you to hold me and kiss my head and tell me that you love me.