But that really dark grief I hate. The place where I struggle to function. I can do little more than take care of my children's basic needs. They know it and become needy and demanding in an attempt to bring me back. I see it, I know what is going on. I can't change it.
In that place I relive it all. I feel what I try so hard to run away from. I ache and cry and feel trapped in my own skin. My greatest enemy is my own thoughts and I struggle to turn them off or even down. The lump in the back of my throat that I constantly have to swallow past, threatens to, at any moment, reduce me to a ball of tears.
Not today, I pray. But the train is approaching with phenomenal speed. It cannot be stopped.