The things that words don't say

So days ago, i'm not sure when... i said to Zane as my floor and hands were covered in paint, as he raised his eyebrow to the roll of paper. "You're painting again?' He'd remarked some time before.

I said to him 'The world is too much for me right now. I'm anxious and sad. I need distraction. I do things because i can't cope. Well i cope by doing these things. I keep my hands busy. I keep my mind distracted. If i don't it's all too much. I don't know what to do with all this stuff that's going on.'

He doesn't really say anything. It'll come back to bite him, that silence.

I sometimes say these things to him, blurt it out at random times, a vomit of words that don't quite say everything, but they're desperate to escape, escape the rising panic... escape the vortex of me.

I don't know how i expect him to respond, but i resent his silence like a personal assault.

Fair or not.

That's what i do.

Lately, i don't pick up my camera any more.

Lately i don't type.

I paint but it's not creation as much as it is copying.

I'm not making anything new. Making new things involves something i can't seem to get my head around.

It involves knowing how i feel.

I'm not sure i do.

But i step out of safety, and when the school teacher asks me to paint for her class, without thinking i do.

I paint lifesize characters from books, and the kids become used to stepping over the mess on the floor, they check it out in the morning, they tell their friends, my mum did that- those pictures on the window.

I walk past these superheroes, the ones i can't get quite right, and i ignore the fact that i can see every line that didn't quite look right. I step back and let go and say 'Thank you' when i'm told it's amazing. Mindful of the voice that says 'Ughh that is so crooked, look at her legs, that lettering oh man.'

I accept the flowers they give me as thanks, awkwardly respond to the comments from people i don't know. I breathe. Because i offered this. I offered myself to this kind of exposure.

I did it not to prove anything, i did it as a response to this internal chaos.

I see Gaza, i see Syria. I see the faces of kids, that could be mine, of grace on the faces of parents who have lost everything and still remember goodness.

I see the world in it's spiral of insanity. And my insides ache.

My life feels small and useless and i am just a shell of motions, hiding a million excuses, saying words that don't mean anything, doing things that don't matter.

I keep my eye out for all the small, quiet things, the people who are extraordinary, the people who are holding back the floodgates with a resolve that only comes from unquestionable faith. That there is hope. There is light.

So i remind myself, to give. Say yes. Give of your time, your skills, give people what they ask for. Do it efficiently, do it freely, do it with the intention of just giving. Nothing else.

I get teary sometimes when i talk. I'm reminded of all the times as a child i would never want to say anything. The act of speaking always was awkward.

Sometimes, feelings came out wrong. The words would choke on themselves, be held back. Swallowed, washed away with that kind of loss that i could never explain, when all i knew was what was inside, and that people could only understand from inside out.

Words will always fail me this way.

All the things that words don't say. Those are the things that stop me from writing, from speaking.

The things that i know everyone knows.

Pain, loss, love, light, faith, hope.

All the confusion of everything.

And i keep my hands busy. I keep my days moving.

Quietly, i tell myself to do things, do them with kindness. Do them with love. DO them.

And i beat myself up daily, and i hear the voice that says 'Geez, you're mean to your husband, why are you so hard on those kids- why haven't you done....'

I hear it.

I fight that craziness that tells me i'm not doing enough. That i fail too much. That i will never be everything i need to be.

I breathe, i paint, i wake up and get up and i hug and i dance and i laugh, i tell myself, i will start from here. I will do what i can.

It will be okay.

All the things that the words don't say. I know them too.

I see them in all of us.

It's okay.

We can do this.

Let's just try.