The ups, downs, and all arounds of these emotions has been a beast.
Surviving it has been exhausting, confusing, infuriating; although I don’t in which order.
It’s hard to feel good, or even accept the goodness that is coming my way.
I smile, then I feel like I shouldn’t. I feel bad, for feeling good, and that in itself is a whole other big thing. Something else I don’t understand, and wouldn’t want to if I did.
I laugh, then my memory gets triggered, and I cry until my eyes get swollen. I didn’t know you could cry so much that your eyes literally get so puffy and red that all you want to do is put a cold washcloth over them as you collapse into your protector’s arms.
I’m a writer, and I haven’t been able to write.
I’m a lover, and I haven’t been able to love.
I ( and all of us ) have been utterly consumed and paralyzed by this grief, this sadness, this need for answers, this hope for justice.
I haven’t written much at all lately ( a first for me ) because I can’t.
I can barely put two thoughts together, never mind trying to covey the deepest sorrow of my being from feeling to paper.