It's been two months. Two months. Two months.
Two months that feel like two years.
Two decades.
In two months, I have transformed. I've peeled back the layers. I've felt. I've mourned.
Respectively: into a truer version of myself. Under which I hid. Love, fear, happiness, sadness, relief, pride, strength. My broken self.
We all want to believe that we will not break. On some level we know it is possible and so we cloak those fears in terms like, "I can't imagine" and "god forbid." We don't look at it. At the possibility of our broken selves. What we would do. What we would say.
Yet breaking - the great possibility of it - exists for all of us.
I broke.
And I am okay.
Healing - the great possibility of it - exists for all of us.
1 comment:
Those feelings, to me, are very familiar to the months and years after my Dad died. The same, "I can't imagine." and "God Forbid" were said to me, around me, and I was sitting there as living proof and people were scared, I was scared. But death, like breaking is so common, it happens every day, it will happen to all of us. Life AND Death. Mourning, healing, it is a very real process and must be respected as one. I'm thinking of you as you move through yours.
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