My Bubble

In my world, I am complete.

For all of everything means nothing to me. The world. The life outside. Savage as a lion. Harmful as its claws. Deafening as its roar. This is the life surrounding me. But I don’t care. I don’t fear anymore. Why?

Because I am in my bubble.

My bubble. Circle and complete. It’s my buffer zone. Like the ozone that shields me from outside harm. Warm. Fuzzy. At peace. This is my centre. This is my serene.

They come you know? Them the Bubble Busters. They come from afar and attack from the near. Beating their fists on my bubble. They are the names I give. The Love Haters. The Snarkers. The Friend Depends. The Bomb Within. These are the people that test my bubble each day.

The Love Haters:

My Michael. My husband. My automatic heart beat. You carry me in places that only you can see in my eyes. You are the speaker to fill my soul with love. I value your being as you do mine. Yet your words can be sharpened like knives to slice into me. They cut. They dismember. All I’m left with is tears and a wounded heart. The world is a balance beam to walk. Breathing. Eating. Sleeping alone. What can I do?

Then I know.

I take a deep breath and blow up my bubble.

Soon I am me again. Your tainted words bounce off with nothing but kindness back. Whatever crevasse you try to ferment in won't work. We are in the here and now. Whatever is now, won't forever be. I will accept you when you climb out of the dark. In the meantime, I will surround myself in flowers and positiveness.

This is my bubble. This is my escape from the dark.

The Snarkers:

The cage you work in. The people you live with while you work. These are the do’ers and say’ers of your there, now and the days to come. You work hard. You focus hard. The deadlines you meet are redrawn again and again.

This is why you’re here. This is what feeds you and puts a roof over your head.

Then there are, The Snarkers.

Gossip as sweet as wine to be passed around to drink. These are the be-wary people. You try not to get involved but you get drawn in. Soon so’n’so hates so’n’so and you’re feeding off how good it feels not to be them. Then the tables turn and you become the so’n’so. You’re drowning in the deep-end with people pushing you under each day.

So what can you do?

You take a deep breath and blow up your bubble.

Now all that The Snarkers see is a smiling shield. You’re polite in how you deal with people. You concentrate on your work. The gossip wine you no longer drink. Soon the claws find no grasp. You’re the actor of your own actions.

This is your bubble. Perfect and complete.

The Friend Depends:

"Remember the 'good old days'? Before all this?"

These are the lines for the great regret.

"Remember when we were young? When innocence was our blood. You and me. Nothing but fun. You were always there for me."

And I was.

There when she got married. There when she had kids. There at the funeral. There as she tried to raise her children alone. I’m so there I no longer know where I am.

Each day on the phone making sure she’s okay. "Can I help with the children?" Her worry is now my worry. Sleep comes slow as I wait for each fear to settle in my mind. I’ve become the TV news junkie. Empathizing with everyone’s misery.

But where is me? Where is my life?

So I take a deep breath and blow up my bubble.

People learn to walk on their own two feet. It’s then I realize all I need to do is be a guide. I am still me. I can be a better me for her if I shine instead of shadow. The sun will always dry up the rain. I just need to be that sun. Not the rain cloud.

This is my bubble. Buffeting the winds.

The Bomb Within:

He sat enclosed. The coffin. His emotions suffocating within. So hard he tries. So hard to keep living the lie. To show the world one side while hiding a darker one. Piecing ever so carefully the puzzle then ripping it apart. Where is he now? Only he knows.

He knows and he knows why? Why should he be the one? Why should he suffer? Why should he go on? And the bomb ticks.

But he knows. He knows the truth and how hard it is to achieve it.

So he takes a deep breath and blows up his bubble.

He knows the end is not the end for him, or the suffering for those left behind. He needs to dig deep. Find what makes his world shine brighter. To reach out and touch a helping hand. To dismantle the bomb within. Let a positive light explode out instead.

This is his bubble. Sparkling bright for all those to see.

In my world, I am a bubble.

In my world I am the babe in the safety of the womb. Still growing. Still learning. Where I am now the world cannot touch me. When my bubble gets smaller that’s when I need to dig deep and blow it back up. Sustain. Maintain. Learn. Draw in and keep out. Bubble.

What is this life?

It is mine.