The Silent Pain

To the outside world she looks normal. More than normal. She’s beautiful, shapely, has long flowing hair that she takes great care of. Her smile lights up the room. You watch her walk in her 4 inch heels, and you just cannot keep your eyes off her. Her hips sashay in just the right way, and her posterior attracts the attention of all the males in the room. She is just perfection itself. The green eyed monster grabs hold of you and in that instant you hate how perfect she is, how she has everything that you want.

Look closer. Look in her eyes and tell me what you see? Do you see her self knowledge of how wonderful and gorgeous she is? No? Look again. What is it that you see in those hazel eyes?

They look sad, you say, surprised. You are confused. What does this amazing womanly woman have to be sad about? Every male eye, every female eye in the room is on her. She has us all spellbound with her magnetism, yet, there is something in her eyes that is heartbreaking.

Your soul wants to reach out to hers, to comfort it, to understand what it is that haunts her so much that it leaks out of her eyes. You go up to her and say hello, and look deep into those lusciously fringed eyes, and she knows. Immediately she senses that you see deep into her soul, and she forcefully closes her eyes, but not before you see the depth of her pain.

You both sit down, and you reach out to hold her hand in yours. Tell me, you say silently, tell me your pain. I will share it and help you carry it. Slowly she opens her eyes, and you almost want to look away as the intensity is too much to bear.

You see the pain of deep loss, you see the pain of abandonment and loneliness, you feel her failures and triumphs – and the fact she mostly had no one to share them with, you feel her love for her children, so sure so strong, yet you feel her fear of not being around for them, of not raising them well, of letting them down. You experience the profound loss of the man she loved. You feel your own heart filling up with the knowledge that this woman had such a wonderful gift and capacity to love so strong and so deeply, and you feel it break with the feelings of heartbreak and emptiness when that love was ripped out of her heart.

Now you are the one that closes the eyes, against the glimpse of a soul that is crying out for comfort. Such a lesson you learned in a short space of time. This perfect woman does not have it all. She suffers like everyone else, she has hopes and dreams, has loved and lost. She is no better than you or me, her mask is just better looking. Tonight she gave you a gift, the gift of knowledge, the gift of looking deeper within and not judging a book by its cover. Never again will you jump to conclusions about who is happy and who is not.


Originally posted on my blog In The Pink