kuch/chup

bohot kuch.

andar sub phansa hua hai, in a way that when i speak there's barely any sound, and when i smile, my face remains static.

i have to start somewhere.

i know that this is repetitive. it happens once in a blue moon when the emotional exhaustion overwhelms me and i retreat so far into my shell that none can reach. when i wasn't married, i had the liberty of escaping on a self-imposed hiatus....buses to nowhere, sipping on coffees and staring at mountains...or walks at 4 am, through bleary morning half-hearted drizzle.

i can't do that anymore. there's routine and people  and expectations

It all starts with expectations really.

expectation to be treated a certain way. to be looked at, appreciated, celebrated. to be taken out on dinners, and to have conversations with...easy flowing conversations where i'm not always initiating. expectations of maybe-we-should've-had-our-honeymoon-by-now (14 months of being married later), expectations of finally-moving-out, expectations of just a two-day vacation where him and me are finally finally finally alone.
i cant remember the last time him and me were truly alone, in a space where his and my family, our obligations, our responsibilities, our schedules did not intervene. In a space we could truly leave all these things at the door, and just be.

That's how we were i remember...now the pervasiveness of it all has crippled me, and my patience is wearing thin. im so so so tired of everything. money issues i cant seem to figure out, family issues with his perpetually jealous and perpetually angry-at-me for goodness-knows-what sister, this house that is toobig and toosmall for us at the same time, three generations under one roof. how the hell do i explain all of this to him? how should i say that this wasn't part of the dream, part of the ex-pec-god-damn-it-tation i had envisioned? promises that this was all temporary and would change now fast turning into a concrete reality where i'm left to fend for his family. and my goodness, my bleeding heart conscience won't permit me to complain, whimper, protest...

no matter how much i tell him i need to get away he doesn't understand. the urgency. i thought i made it clear that i would only ever make a demand if it came to a point where i really couldnt take it anymore, and it has. and it's not over the top, it's not a 5 star vacation to europe kind of request. it's a take me to jersey and let's stay in a run down motel for a night but let's please just have some us time kind of request. he can't comply. i don't know why, but he doesn't comply. the frustration is tearing me apart and there's nothing i can say or do.

i keep it bottled in for fear of angering him, God, embarrassing myself in my own eyes, the guilt from which i may never return, embarrassed to admit my human limitations that have worn thin.

i used to tell myself that i'd never allow myself to get in a place i felt trapped. i would always have plan B, i'd be a little selfish and find my own way like i always have..somehow, this isn't Vancouver or Toronto and I haven't been able to find my way, or myself. New York is swallowing me in, like it swallows everyone in, and spews out a tangled, flummoxed version of yourself even you yourself can't recognize.

it might be the horror at the sight of this forlorn adult me, or maybe the weight of everything that's compressing my vocal chords shut, or maybe its New York itself, swallowing me whole....i just can't seem to find my voice. I can't seem to vocalize any of this. I'm just, quiet. silent. mumbling.
mind rut.

chup.

-eeda