You work hard to let go of the need to be in control. You learn to forgive. You empty out all the ego from your life that you can. After some time, you even start to feel comfortable in your skin. The tears stop, as does the fantasizing about disaster – by all accounts you are doing pretty well. Things are better than alright.
Then there are days like today, when I just don't want to have to hold everything together myself.
I see parents with their children and it tears my heart out that I haven't so much as spoken to my own for but a few minutes in the last month. I want to be angry. I want justice. I remind myself that it will get better but my words ring hollow.
I want to talk and have nothing to say all at the same time, and no one to listen either way.
I start to write you, and my words leave me.
I want to cover myself in your warmth, but I am alone here, and so it is what it is.
I am not depressed – I do not cry. This pain is my own, I embrace it, observe it. I let myself feel it wash through me. There was a time when I would have held onto it, but no longer. My heart is open and it will find no handhold in me. Tomorrow will be another day and this ache will be gone, but today...
Today I am allowing to continue to at least partially suck.
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