For years Celeste simply existed. Her routine was as ingrained in her DNA. The fiber of her being. The blood coursing through her veins. The rituals made her tick. She powered through the work week doing everything for everybody with few exceptions. Going to work expended every ounce of her energy. She couldn’t cook or keep house. She believed to her core that she had failed as a mother and a wife. As an employee, she hid it! She was compelled to go to work and excel while she was there. She had not taken a “sick” day in over two years. But it was all a sham. She wondered when they would find out. Each day closer to Friday at 5 added to her pending relief.
Upon arriving home on those blessed Friday evenings, she shed her costume and wiped every trace of that other woman from her face. She became a hermit. Exhaustion pulled her to her bed. The twins would fend for themselves or hubby would step in. Celeste would not come out again until Sunday afternoon. Then the panic would set in. The fear of facing another week. Another 5 days of the grind. With all the strength she could muster, she’d prepare. The tasks needed to get ready and to steady herself. The night would be fraught with twists and turns, this she knew. Yet she could not stop the cycle of simply existing.
As always, more to come.