A Chink in my Armor

I know the exact moment I turned into a machine, the minute my emotions dulled and I began to just function.  It was like I walked into a wall and it hurt like hell.  I remember gasping, burying my face in my hands and slumping into myself with such force I could hardly breathe.  But then I did breathe and with that breath the machine was born. 

The machine arrived with a mission – she had to guide me through a nightmare while I  was still awake, she had to help me function, give me strength to not only bear my sorrow but the heartbreak of everyone around me. She had to give me the courage to walk the love of my life home and myself into a sea of tomorrows without him.  The machine was singleminded, she had one job to do, she had to help me survive.

The machine went into overdrive right out of the gate. She didn’t need to eat, hardly needed to sleep and only rarely broke down. She made doctors appointments, picked up prescriptions and set the alarm clock for two hour intervals all night to deliver pills before pain had a chance to break through. But more than that she had to guard the door, make the excuses and keep well meaning people away. She had to be brutal and loyal and brave.  And then she had to hold his hand and be gentle.

The machine couldn’t let herself feel anything, she couldn’t let her guard down, she had to function. And she did. She held that hand and the hands of the broken-hearted around her. She ruthlessly pulled strength from her own children, she leaned on them even as they had a hard time standing up themselves for they had turned into machines as well. We held each other up – machines can do that.

And then those machines had to plan a funeral and clean a closet and sort through papers and make decisions. They still couldn’t rest. But machines eventually wear out and start to break down and the person with the emotions beneath the armor begins to wake up. 

As the mechanical me starts to wear out and shut down I find myself looking back on her mission.  And do you know what? I’m proud of her – she accepted that mission and she was a warrior. And now she is tired.  

There is a chink in my armor these days, I’m starting to feel things again and often that is hard. I’m laughing and appreciating the sunrise but I’m also crying more. Emotion is emotion, happy and sad share a room, to wake one of them rouses the other – it’s the price we pay for becoming human again.