I haven’t been talking much the last few days. Some days the silence is too much. Silence can kill a soul and it feels as though I am on the verge of drowning in it. But when I try to speak, nothing comes out. Years of being a keeper of secrets has led to a lifetime of silence.
Ever since the topic of vacations was brought up I wondered, countless times, what was going to happen while T was away and what was going to happen when he returned. I wondered which part would be more difficult—the time leading up to his departure or the time between the departure and his return—the wondering, the waiting, the hope that he would come back in the end. My feelings about it have changed, many times.
I feel like I am waiting for something, but I don’t know what. My insides are convinced that I should cancel my appointment tomorrow and preferably end therapy all together. I feel foggy and indifferent. Unsettled and disconnected. Part of me is incredibly frustrated and angry.
It hurts to breathe. Everything feels too hard and I hate life right now. It all just feels really, really unfair. The young and scared part of me wants to face the world like this,
but the adult me knows that it would be incredibly childish to do so.
I despise everything to do with the way it feels. I want to skip this part of making things better. Do we need it? Maybe it’s not necessary. Maybe if we can just ignore this part of things it won’t feel quite so bad and it won’t feel like I need him……it won’t feel exactly like it did back then.