Mum messaged me this afternoon telling me how she couldn’t stop crying because she missed him. For forty-five minutes on my bus this morning, I couldn’t stop crying because of how much I missed him. I cried again then because of how much I missed her. I couldn’t stop crying because for the first time in a long time I felt lonely. And like every other year since 2008, I was back in the ICU lost and alone.
I don’t want to be just an option for people to swipe yes or no to. But being wanted felt bloody damn good, and no, it’s not the solution but it feels like a step towards finding the solution.
Heartbreak can be as liberating as it is painful. For the most part, I am okay because I have been distracted. It begins to get tough when I am alone and staring at silence storm its fist at me.
My hands are still trembling from doing the exact opposite of what I intended to do. I booked my first solo trip for a week to Tasmania. OH-MY-GOD, YES, I DID!
What is meant to be will be — float or drown, it will be, in its own time and course.
I should have known better than to chase something that seemed like a fantasy, but I wandered into the choppy waters anyway, unprepared. I sought something I thought I deserved but in truth, it wasn’t mine to begin with.
We all have a rehearsed set of lines similar to our Facebook or LinkedIn bios. These are usually simple yet exciting enough. It is the story you know they want to hear even if it’s not yours to tell. It is a story of our past, our achievements and talents and outward appearances. It is a story meant for the file, but not the one that bears our soul.