The Absence of Words

Unbroken Spirits is a serie of short stories that are posted on my blog every Friday. Previous stories can be found on my ‘Explore’ (category) list on the right.



Pic by A.B. / One of the many sculptures / Vigeland Park in Oslo


I swear he’s probably going to leave me, which will cast me away into a dark hole, becoming the death of me. He’s up to something; I can feel it, I can sense it!

A woman’s sixth sense doesn’t lie. But again, what do I know. I’ve been spiraling out of control these days. False! Let’s add numerous days and say months. To him, I’m probably on a everlasting period (if only that was the case). I seem to be a hormonal ticking bomb waiting to explode at any given moment.

But hormons is not what’s causing my craziness.

To me, I’ve lost my sanity. All of a sudden ‘poof!’ Voila, a big bowl of madness; with a pinch of hopelessness, a fistful of agony, a cup full of tears and an inconsolable soul. Let’s add anger to the mix!

A liar, also. But talking about whatever that seems to be eating me from the inside makes it all too real. I’m (not) OK, I tell him in hopes that he’ll read my mind and find out for himself. Men should be able to do that. That’s not asking for too much, is it?

I’m not depressed, I’m lost (I think). Oh, the contradictions! How can I be lost when I’m sitting right here on this God forsaken sofa that have seen better days. Note to self: We need a new sofa!

It’s been abused for too long, by the kids, turning it into something it’s not – a fricking trampoline. After several pleas to leave the sofa alone, all is lost. Time to throw out the old gal; in with a new, more hipped and in style sofa.

The novelty of being a happy married woman and a mother of two is also starting to wear off.

I bet he’s contemplating divorce. I guess, ‘worse’ is becoming too much and ‘till death do us part’ proving to be too long.

We could talk. But the last time we talked I was described as a ‘mad woman’; my insanity of course disagrees. Fair and sensible judgement is reserved for the sane – a luxury I don’t have nowadays.

I told him I needed space. I had the ability to give whatever good I had left to the kids, others (including him) would have to wait. In other words: I have nothing to offer you. Leave me alone!

A week has gone by; silence, more madness and tears has since reigned.



I’m on stand-by. On the side line, patiently waiting for my cue as the supporting role, the husband. She asked for space, I’m granting her wish. Pushing further will probably send her over the edge. I can sense she needs me, although on the more silent side, where words are chosen wisely or not at all. 

The safety of me being, as I do my part of whatever I should be doing, has become my role and her safety.

An easy life was never prominent for her. Now she’s hurting; I can see that, although my radar doesn’t always detect emotional distress from her part. Asking would only bring out the typical “I’m OK” answer. And I’m not one to digg.

I could talk to her…again. But I’m afraid that a ‘talk’ will lead to yet another outburst of irrational emotions. Like the one a week ago; a disaster of a conversation. I don’t exactly recall what was said, I remember tears and me embracing her tight in my arms.

It felt good. I felt needed and wanted.

She has nothing to offer. I disagree.

Not talking prevents unwanted behavior (like walking out the door). Afraid I’ll say something wrong to make matter worse, I keep my silence but not my distance.

Committed to see it all through, for better or worse. This just happened to be one of a the ‘worse’ section of our marriage, with more to come.

It’s all worth it though, as I get to wake up next to her every morning whilst leaving me in awe of her beauty. Of course, she doesn’t realize what she possess but what woman does until a man praises her? I praise her every day.

She tries hard to push me away, a test she expects me to fail. Still, it’s written in stones ‘until death do us part’ – a vow I tend to keep. With her, I’m prepared for eternity.

I don’t want to interrupt. She looks so peaceful on the other end of the sofa, watching reality junk which she argues offers her sanity and pride for her intelligence.

There’s a sense of tranquility in the house, the kids are over at my parents and we’re left to ourselves. But no one dares to speak.

I’m thinking of ways to cheer her up, even if it’s just for a moment. I long to see her beautiful smile, the glint in her eyes and the gracious essence she radiates.

Planning has never been my strong side but she’s always wanted to travel to Paris. I’m hoping love can mend her wounded spirit. It’s the only thing I know – for I love her.


Thank you for reading. A feedback in a simple like or comment is highly appreciated!
More next week! Wish you all a pleasant weekend! 

3 thoughts on “The Absence of Words

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