64 - The Bubble That Burst

My bubble of safety, 

my fragile pocket of happiness, 

shrank the moment I began caring for my brother.

I used to find control, 

a kind of peace, 

while at work. 

In that small bubble, 

at least with my mask on, 

I knew how to be myself. 

It’s strange, I found safety underneath a mask, 

where I wasn’t real, 

where I could choose the persona I wanted the world to see.

But after my brother came under my care, 

everything changed. 

I couldn’t keep the mask on all the time. 

I lived in 24 hours of worry, 

wondering if he would still be alive when I came home. 

Afraid of seeing his body rock back and forth, 

back and forth, 

the motion worsening as time went by.

Entrapped in the jail I created, 

disguised as a safe haven, 

I realized I had no safe place anymore. 

No corner of peace. 

No refuge.

I jailed myself, 

and that prison of my own making 

became the beginning of my downward spiral.