Some days it’s like your life is inside a boxing ring.
You are being thrown around.
You can’t get out, or look like you are in pain.
Nobody knows what this really feels like.
They think you can handle it.
But deep down you are hurting.
Fantasizing that you are crawling out of the ring.
Hiding somewhere so life can’t find you, and throw you around.
How long can you stay?
Taking the punches.
Can they see you breaking?
Can you keep going long enough, until the match is over?
Until they are done with you.
You don’t even want to win anymore.
You just want to make it through.
Make it until you are allowed to let go.
Find solace in something.
Offered the band aid.
The fixing of the bruises.
The time to recover.
How long do you have to search the world?
Hidden enough to hold you for a while. (Click to tweet!)
So you can find your way back to believing in a life without a boxing ring.
Where you don’t need to crawl and find the band aid.
Where you have days just breathing the air.
Looking at the sun.
Surrounded by hope for a better life.
With many matches in the ring,
Christina
I, too, have had some matches in the ring. That line and this whole piece sums up my unusual story. I lost my husband of 28t yrs in 2014, during which time I had and still do, deal with my son’s addiction. It’s been so hard…Thank you.