When we came home, nobody wanted to hear what we nurses had been through. We were expected to carry on from where we left off – get married, have our babies, support our husbands’ careers. That’s what I tried to do, but I had a bad time for a while.
Little in return? You’re so wrong. I worked hard because I had a hunger inside me that no amount of food could satisfy. I found relief from it by feeding others.
What would it feel like to spew venomous anger? To writhe with hate? To cry bitter tears? To truly love and feel loved in return? To care deeply and passionately about something or someone? Was she destined to live emotionally flat forever?
Forces beyond my control have taken everything away from me except my freedom to choose how to respond.
She learned things went better if she kept a distance between them, a decision that brought with it sadness and guilt. She vowed to herself to carry the burden silently. That was a sort of love. Wasn’t it?