I can’t breathe. I can’t think. This is not the life I planned or dreamed of, but this is the life I live. Unpredictability at its finest. One day great, the other a complete mess. I can’t comprehend the un-comprehend-able, yet I walk through its shadows and webs blindly, a foreigner to this new normal, the normal I still gnash my teeth at and throw my fists towards and scream “ I DON’T WANT YOU- GET AWAY FROM ME!” There is no escape, unfortunately. Just the vacancy of this broken soul gripping desperately for a relief of some sort of tangible existence to mercifully cover me from the rawness death leaves behind after it rips the life of my present and future right from out of my hands.
Tomorrow I will be thirty eight. I did not expect thirty seven to be as it has. Perhaps my fault, I have often tended to not live with many expectations, because expectations when not met, hurt. In honesty though, I never expected to have to walk this part of my thirties in this manner and this crazily. It is frightening. Perhaps the intensity of the fear has not even yet permeated my brain, because it is just too painful to grasp, but I want to be made whole. I want to be real. And this thing is breaking me to the ground. Is this what it takes to be grounded? Is this what it means to walk in absolute surrender? Tomorrow I will return to the place where we celebrated Sean. My stomach is in turmoil. I feel like I will vomit when I walk through the doors of the facility. I don’t know why I thought that once we celebrated, I would never have to step foot in this particular place again, but this is life. Avoidance doesn’t work nor is it an option. I am realizing this at an alarming rate. My birthday. If I could avoid it. I would. I can’t.