Where’s the Axe?

I knew I was in trouble when I stopped crying and just accepted that he wasn’t coming home.  Again.  No calls, he would just disappear, usually around pay day.  The layers of shame fused together like the hairs of an armadillo, making a shell that I can roll myself up in for protection.  However it works both ways, shutting others out and keeping my pain and shame in.  I don’t even know how to unroll anymore, how to expose the soft underbelly that is there.  As brave as I am about accepting challenges it doesn’t extend to interpersonal relationships.  I am guarded.  My fears and pain rule my heart.  The door is locked and I’ve lost the key, so even if I wanted to give it to someone I don’t know where it is.  Hand me an axe to chop through it, will you?