Me, again.
“If you were to go back and tell that woman that it was going to be okay, she would’ve told you to fuck off.” I laughed as tears formed behind my eyes and forced myself to swallow them down. There it was, that well of emotion—both alarming and a relief to feel that familiar sadness for her. So often now when I think back to that life I feel nothing. There is a numbness to the tragedy of it all- the horrible news, horrible sights, sounds, watching death occur. It often feels like it never happened. Not to me . The connection to the person I was before is the most paradoxical relationship I’ve ever been in. It’s like a rope I simultaneously want to bury, burn, and cling to. It’s a relationship that both grounds me and sends me into a whirlwind of anxiety. I’ve written before about reconciling myself with myself; allowing myself to let go of the guilt of happiness and of living without that old familiar pain that comes with grief and loss. It is a very difficult truce to come t...