Sometimes, we manifest our emotional state physically. I am covered with a red, bumpy ,somewhat-itchy rash. Dermatitis disgustingus. Mom’s Funeral Part Two is this weekend, and I have been struggling with agitation that I don’t know how to express. I have to go to work, do the laundry, and act normal when what I really want to do is pull out my hair and scream and break a plate or two. So. I try to behave normally, and smile, and be a good wife or nurse or grocery shopper, whatever the situation calls for.
But oh, the body does rebel. There is fire on the inside and, now, on the outside too. No hiding it anymore. You can look at my wrists or my thighs or behind my left ear and see the truth, even though my lips will tell you I’m fine, I’m great, I’m doing well.
Maybe this is doing well. Maybe this flare of emotion and skin is part of the release, part of what will set me free. I can only hope so. In the meantime, I’ll be perfecting the art of scratching myself in public without being noticed.