The Myth of the Band Aid

Remember when you were a small kid and you would fall and scrape your knee? You would burst into instant tears and race over to mom. She would smile at you, give you a hug and sit you down. She would look at your knee and tell you it would be right in a minute. Then she would grab a band aid, stick it on the scrape and kiss it all better.

Simple, right? It worked like a charm too! In a matter of seconds you were back on your feet running and jumping and scraping more knees, crying and getting more band aids. As we grew up the power of the band aid remained fresh in our minds. No matter the situation, if we got scraped or cut and it hurt, we would grab a band aid and stick it on. It was the equivalent of ‘kissing it all better’ which remained with us throughout adolescence. We thought everything could be fixed with a band aid.

Well, most external wounds I guess. The internal ones though, they are incapable of healing with a simple band aid. Yet, some people even late into adulthood still feel that if they stick a 10cm band aid over a 20cm gaping, blood gushing wound, that it would fix it up and you would be right as rain. Unfortunately, that kind of thinking is difficult to reverse once it’s so ingrained in the skulls of people.

And broken hearts? Don’t even get me started on that. As I sit here and type this I am nursing my own little broken and crumbling heart. Someone might even call it a manipulative heart (this I say with distaste and is half the reason I am in a state of nursing). I am one of the vast majority of people who have come to terms with the myth of the band aid. Yet, the reason I am sitting here falling apart and barely able to smile is that I have found myself with the converse. A person who easily believes that putting a band aid over my broken heart will mend it up in a jiffy and everything can go back to normal. I mean, he put a band aid on it for goodness sakes! I should have no reason to be downtrodden or emotional or even slightly unbalanced. The band aid is magic! Once it is there all the problems magically disappear along with it just like the pain did when mom kissed you all better.

I wish that were true. I wish all it took was a band aid to forget the words that were said and the words that were not. I wish it could clear my memory. I wish it could make up for the lack of care and love deserved to myself when I needed it most. I wish it could undo all the tears and the nights spent crying myself to sleep waiting for him to care. I really do wish the band aid was magical. Maybe then I would not feel like we were sweeping problems beneath the carpet while the band aid was being soaked by a wound too deep to be simply patched up.

If only mom could kiss it all better.

Unfortunately the band aid was a lie.

And I continue to bleed out…

You Did Not Call

I sat up all night waiting for you to call. Why didn't you call? Why did you leave me to cry myself to sleep all those nights? Why did you not care enough to realise that you were killing me inside little by little and taking whatever was left of my already disfigured heart and breaking it more? Why didn't you call?

Yeah I said some things. They hurt you I am sure. Yet, they were not untrue. You always told me to speak my mind and share what bothered me but as good as I am with words on paper I struggle to be as diplomatic and passive when emotions cloud my judgement and I am feeling slighted. I thought you knew me. You know me don’t you? You know my heart and my soul and my mind and its weird and wonderful intricacies that make me… me. Still you did not call.

I sat up all night wondering what I could do. Would I lose him? Would I be left to start my life all over again? Would he further break me apart despite promising to never do so? I cried and in my agony and pain I turned to God and I prayed. I prayed for my heart to find peace and my mind to be content and above it all I asked God that if he was not the one for me to give me a sign and then the strength to go on living without him. Still you did not call.

I checked my phone every moment I had. I searched in every space and corner of my mind. Why would he let his anger win? Why are his feelings more important than mine? Are we not equal partners in this relationship? Do I not deserve more than just an ‘ok’ in response to my broken heart? As I searched, and cried and prayed I could not help but think that he had been so blinded by his anger that he would never see how he is murdering my soul. He forgets that he is not the only one hurting. I was upset and said what I said but that only goes to show that I too have feelings and I too am hurting. His absence and failure to communicate was only hurting me more. Still you did not call.

I love you with all my heart and yet you left me to suffer for so many days. Following all that hurt the only plausible emotion to follow was anger and a blinding rage took over my heart driving the melancholy into a corner afraid for its life. How could you be so heartless and cruel? How could you think that your feelings suddenly trumped mine? What gives you the right to leave me suffering and crying because you think it is better to not talk than to actually feel for once alongside me? I was angry, broken and falling to pieces. I decided to remove any contact we could have besides phone calls. I had to do it or fear tearing you apart with my anger or falling into the trap of throwing out self-respect and begging you to talk to me. Still you did not call.

So, that night as I cried myself to sleep for what felt like a hundred nights I vowed that should you not call I would walk away and accept it as God’s ultimate plan. The next day you called… I do not know which I preferred: when we did not talk at all or when you tore me to pieces. You spoke words so harsh I felt my heart crumble completely. You called me things that you knew would hurt and when all was done and I stood in the aftermath of your quake; I could not help but think, 'What did I ever do to deserve this?'  I may have been harsh but you were cruel and everyone knows the difference between the two is as vast as the Pacific Ocean. After leaving me to myself for days on end, instead of coming forward cool-headed and calm you rained a thunderstorm of anger and despair on my life.

I wish you did not call.

Mother always said, 'Be careful what you wish for.'

I wish you did not call.