Feeling

is the bravest thing a human can ever do….

Oh hey. Grief.

Isn’t it funny how you still surprise me.

Wake me up in the middle of the night.
Make me want to burn my life down to the ground for your amusement.

I always recognize you.
However sly your attempts to rattle me.

But damn, you are seductive.

She pulls me in like the blackest of nights and makes me feel right at home in my darkness.

“Who needs light,” she says.

Eternity lives here.
Death.
Expansion.
Disgust.

A freedom to sleep and never wake again.

She makes me so angry.
Because part of me wants that.

It’s easy. And endless.
And very hard to fight on days like today.

It’s midnight, on May 10th.

Which means it’s May 11th.

Which means tomorrow is May 12th.

A day that marks 10 years since my father left this earth. Or this plane. Or this realm.

Whatever it is, there’s still a tiny break in my heart that grows dark.

And deepens.

And makes me want to push everything good away.
Makes me want to burn it all down, out of pure confusion.

And fire.

And anger.

And blindness.

“What are you doing?” Grief says.
“Who do you think you are?” She continues.
“Maybe you should be a bartender instead of a healer.

What’s the point, anyway?”

It feels so real.

What a heartbreaking dialogue she delivers. But it’s always the same old story.  And although I can’t resist it entirely, I’m not buying.

I will sit (or lay) in this weirdness until it passes.

I will cry while my heart feels like it’s on fire.

In hopes of relief.

A reprieve.
Eventually.

She keeps me up at night.
With her anxious swirls.
The emotional twists.

Like my heart and my stomach are tying each other in continuous knots for fun.

And my mind runs miles around itself.

Strangely, it’s been one of the most exciting weeks of my life.

Yet, here we are.

She doesn’t discriminate.
You gotta hand it to her on that one.

I’m getting tired again.
(Writing heals.)

But there’s more I want to say.
There always will be.

To feel something so vividly is truly exquisite.

To write so viscerally.
To be able to articulate the distinct anguish she provides.

Feeling is the bravest thing a human can ever do.

Call Now Button