Distractions

Distractions are good when you have the need to escape from that feeling you dread. That feeling you wished never existed in the first place. That feeling of something missing. 

But all the distractions in the world can never conceal the moment you first open your eyes in the morning, those few seconds when you wonder whether it was just a dream after all. When you just stare into blank space, and a balloon saying 'get well soon!' tied to a hamper at the corner of the room irritates the life out of you. Yes, I burst it this morning.

As you slowly regain composure and a sense of reality, you begin to plan for the hectic schedule that lies ahead. The first day, we shifted our focus onto our upcoming company trip to Italy, the booking of hotel rooms, discussions on flea markets etc. The second day, I spent my energy and concentration on cleaning my new place. There was just so much dirt and stains to be removed that I lost track of time and made my poor husband wait until 9pm without dinner. The third day, we spent our time buying dustbins and installing curtain rods for our new place and I have already made a to-do list for tomorrow when my husband is at work.

Not only do these distractions keep me going, they make me happy because I can actually control how and when I want them done, knowing very well the end results I have planned for. I do feel that sometimes I stretch myself a little too much as I feel a little strain where it used to be at the end of the day. And I tell myself, I need to slow it down a little. But when a new day begins, the cycle restarts as I am afraid of letting that dreaded feeling creep into my mind subconsiously when I have the time to spare. It strikes when you let your guard down, and leaves disturbing ripples which traps you in that state of being bitter and hateful.

I will never forget the day my husband and I chose to go through together, without the company of family and friends. I will never forget the fear I had as they pushed me away from my husband, towards the sterile-looking room with strangers in masks telling me it will all be okay. The sound of my beating heart beeping through the machine as I lie there waiting for the doctor. These memories are mine to keep and carry, like a scar from a wound that may or may not heal and although I know all the distractions are only a temporary solution for the time being, it is sufficient for me to go through each day without feeling distant from my husband and most importantly, from myself.