I turn the shower on and let the water run hotter than a regular shower. It’s been three days since I’ve seen one. I desperately hope that by making it hotter I will finally start to feel something again. A futile thought, I know.
Standing under the water, my face upturned to the stream, the hot tears mix with the hot water until I can’t tell that I’m still crying. Sobs wrack my body and I just stand there, immobile. Numb. That is the best way to describe it. Anesthetized from life. Emotionally this disconnect creates a buffer from my pain that allows me to continue on. And yet, it’s like being in purgatory- a temporary respite from the hell I know is coming.
Frantic, desperate thoughts, like mice scurrying in a dark basement come and go in my head. An overwhelming urge to make it all stop. The soothing sound of the water hitting the tile floor, and the steam surrounding me drown out the noise in my head until the only thing I’m aware of is the sound of my lungs drawing breath in and out. Instinctively I know the tears haven’t stopped but I no longer feel them silently streaming down my face as I lean my forehead against the cool tile.
I shampoo my hair and as I’m rinsing it out I close my eyes and let the stinging hot water wash over me until the water runs warm and then cool as the hot water tank empties. Afterwards, standing in front of the fogged up mirror I stare blankly at the shadowy figure reflected in its surface and wonder silently how much longer I can go on doing this. Where does it end?
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