The Chelsey Diaries

“oh.. ”
i think, as I wake up again, like I do each morning, kind of disappointed that I did, in fact, wake up.

“Lilee.” I say out loud. Always my first word in the morning. Her name. It will always be her name.
I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Maybe I just don’t go. I think to myself as the thought of coffee physically pulls me out of bed and into the kitchen. Coffee first. Coffee always first.
I sit in the dim lighting and stare at the TV without turning it on. Another day without her. Another day pretending. Another day going through the motions of a well rounded, capable adult. Maybe I just don’t go. I think to myself again. The urge to scream is building up in my chest the pressure is growing, the need to run, to escape, has a million ideas and plans ripping through my head. My breath is getting shallow, my heart is pounding, rushing all the blood to my head, the dizziness starts to set in..
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
coffee’s done.
Robotically I get up, pour milk in my cup, then fill it to the brim with caffeine. The hot cup and rhythmic sipping slows my heart. the warm liquid flowing down my esophagus and coating my stomach suppresses the urge to scream.
I go through the motions: shower, lotion, make up, hair, clothes. The acute sense of my without-her-ness starts to dull, but the sensation to get up and run lingers. I start to go through all the things i need to do, both at work and not as my energy, alertness and resilience start to climb. I got this…I think.
Coffee to go, lunch, keys.. where are my damn keys? Boots, Scarf, jacket.
With a heavy sigh I take one last look around making sure I didn’t forget anything, I lock the door knob and shut the door.
In my car I flip my visor mirror open. “Maybe i just don’t go.” I say out loud. A stab of pain goes through my heart.
My music explodes on, mid song. Ouch. But I don’t dare turn it down. I need it.
I always contemplate on my 20 minute commute. Contemplate and sing.
 I can’t wait till i write for a living and don’t have to commute, or wear pants. or pretend.
 This really is the most beautiful drive.
 I don’t know if I can do it today.
What would happen if I just kept driving. Just didn’t stop.
I get to work, settle in, reply to emails, take calls, take money, give quotes, order things, file things, and anything else that falls onto my plate.
I smile, I joke, I laugh, I tease. I listen and I nod. A normal person on a normal day.
Shit, I’m convincing.
Sometimes I hide in the washroom so that I can get the approaching tears or panic attack under control. No one notices anything different.
What am I doing here, I think.
sometimes its not so bad. Sometimes its actually fine; I’m actually fine. Sometimes I’m too busy to get sad, sometimes I’m not busy and I’m also just fine.
The clock strikes and its time to go home. I say my goodbyes, close down my computer and walk out to my car. As I get in I let out a sigh of relief.
Done. one more day done. Until what? I think, not knowing what I’m counting down to..
I drive home playing my favourite calming music. Like Claire de lune, Fragment, stay alive, and I need you.
Sometimes i cry. Often I cry.
I pour a glass of wine and start dinner. I sit on the couch in the dim lighting and wonder, what am i doing here, as the red elixir warms my body and tames my heart.
Dinner, Jeopardy, Clean, Bed.
Sometimes I can sleep and sometimes I put on a random series on Netflix in hopes that my brain will shut off. It doesnt usually work. But as i start to drift, I speak one last time.
“Goodnight, my sweet Lilee.” Always my last word at night; Her name. It will always be her name.

“Oh..”
i think, as I wake up again, like I do each morning, kind of disappointed that I did, in fact, wake up.