Monday, September 27, 2010


I've had so many reminders lately, of what it's like to come out on the other side, of what it's like to be in the thick of things, of what it's like to deal with raw, painful, grief and not have the words. I've journeyed back to dark places, to lonely places of confrontation and reflection, to silent places of contemplation and being at peace. I have learned, and I will continue to learn, but these lessons take my breath away. Sometimes I just can't breathe it is suffocating and overwhelming and sometimes in complete and absolute awe.

I've always had a problem with insomnia. Always had a problem with not sleeping and not being able to get to sleep. Too busy, too much thinking, too much going on, too much to do. My mind processes and processes and goes and goes until I am flat out exhausted and finally ready to pass out. I hate this.

I hate these 3am conversations with myself confronting the yucky. Confronting the sad. Confronting the messy and the ugly and the hard.

I miss my therapist. I miss the safety of having an hour to dump all these uncohesive thoughts onto someone else's lap and walk out with it all organized into pretty little boxes. I miss the security of having a check and balance. Of knowing that no matter where your mind takes you, that there is someone keeping watch, someone checking, someone making sure that this, this is where you need to be. That this is healthy. That is right.

Because it's hard. Oh my lord is it hard and painful and difficult and mind numbing. I confront demons that are intense and ugly and painful. I confront demons that seem to rise up again and again throwing up old fears and taking shape in different forms. I confront but yet sometimes it seems never ending and exhausting.

I cry in the middle of the night, missing my friends, missing my boyfriend, missing a little girl and grieving again the could have beens and the changes and the changes and the changes. I cry, overwhelmed, unsure, scared, lonely. I cry, not knowing what to say.

I cry, and I journal, and I blog.

I cry, and somehow, it makes it all okay again.

And I can breathe.

And I can focus.

And I can say

I(t) will be better tomorrow.

"Every day is a new beginning. Treat it that way. Stay away from what might have been, and look at what can be."

--Marsha Petrie Sue