I look around: this house is a disgrace, so dirty, so messy. Still, I wrap the sweater around me and sit on the sofa. I feel so bad, physically. Again. It started with my heart and then a budding panick attack. I try to breath and pray. Maya doesn't understand what I am going through so she continues to disobey me. We fight a lot, these days, as she tries to show me "who's the boss". I am tired of this game. Why it has to be a continuous war with her? "Don't want to" or "No" are her favourite expressions these days.
I am cold and I am afraid. I have to go and see a doctor. He'll send me to do tests, give me pills...Being there a few times in the past. Each time the same result: stress-related problems. The doctor sent me to a psychiatrist and she gave me anti-depressants. It didn't help, it really didn't. On the contrary, they gave me torturous insomnias.
How fragile is our body, our material package...How fragile...I am alone and afraid. I am looking at my daughter and pray to God. She needs me, I don't have other desire in life just to be with her, to see her growing up. To love her. I am surprised I have tears left.
I am alone and my fingers are frozen.
I panicked as my heart was fluttering like a mad butterfly so I took Maya and we went to the nearest doctor's office. Of course, the office was closed and it'll open at 4 o'clock. That's my luck. I made an appointment and I just have to pray now I'll be able to get there in time, if at all.
I squeeze Maya's small fingers , my sweet baby. The only soul that gives me some solace, comfort.
I take her to the "Dollar Store" to offer her some reward for being well behaved at the office. She buys three soap packs , 5 pieces each, so we return home with 15 bars of soap to join the other aproximately 15 more we have at home. She's obsessed with those soap bars, no idea why.
I don't have any choice but to drag her with me, as there is nobody I could ask for help. Maybe one of my neighbours, but I feel better if she's with me, no matter what. I called my husband but he is tied up in meetings and he works in Tel Aviv, 45 minutes drive from here, when the trafic is clear. My son is at work, even farther away.
I am thinking of getting us some kind of bracelets, with emergency phone numbers or such, if something happens to me somebody should be able to contact my husband.
My poor tormented heart, the expression of an even more tormented soul...
Black Parade by Kyoko M.
10 hours ago