Been here before, more than anyone should have to admit. Close to the edge and one foot always over the line.
The pain and hurt swallow you like a black hole. The mind and heart become fractures. The remaining shards crushed, swept away easily with a single action or word.
The saddest part though, isn’t the hurt, it’s becoming addicted to the pain. Addicted because it makes you feel and feeling means you’re alive.
Living is the hardest. Everything hurts. You want it to end, but are terrified to feel something good. Good might get ripped away and that would leave an ache all over again, probably worst than last because you should know better. You’ve been degraded and defeated into believing you deserve nothing else. So with an emptiness you resign to aloneness.
No one gets it.
I have been quiet on the writing front for over a month.
The reason is, I’ve been overwhelmed by life. Admittedly, my mental health has not been the best. Some of you might have picked up on that in the last piece of writing.
Most recently, on August 24th, I lost my grandma to a hard fought battle with ALS. She was determined to pass with as much dignity as that disease allows. She chose assisted dying, which is available here in Canada. She went out on her on terms with strength, courage and grace. She was laughing and sharing memories until the very end.
Her celebration of life was yesterday. I would love to write something in her honour, but I’m not ready quite yet. I can’t make sense of my feelings or all the things I’d like to say.
Words will come in time though and that will be my next piece of writing.