Hope.

Sometimes I feel as though my emotions are compounded. They take shapes like oil bubbles rippling in water. They find each other and glob together to make what began as a manageable gentle sadness, turn into deep despair. Heartache turns into grief; raw and unfiltered. I am so done with grief. DONE.

My chest feels tight. My throat feels raw.

The tears keep coming like an onslaught; a surprise attack of buried emotions. Shit that resurfaces and takes control of my mind, my body, and my entire being. I hurt so deeply that my sobs become these primal sounds that scare the dog.

Sometimes I feel filled to the brim with these emotions. Tiny moments break me. Little things that I can normally handle turn into devastating apocalyptic shitshows. Everything beautiful, that is right in front of me, seems impossible to see. All my brain wants to process is the hurt, the pain, the despair. It filters out the good and latches onto the bad. It won’t let go. Sometimes it is absolutely easier to just give in and ride that rollercoaster of grief. It takes too much energy to try to make it stop.

It feels downright scary to know that this is my ‘right now’, my foreseeable future. Grief is a landslide of feelings, all tangled up together, causing my brain to send out chaotic sparks of panicky, nonsensical thoughts.

For now, all I can do is breathe, cry, curl into a ball, and remember that this too shall pass.

I have to hope this doesn’t last too much longer. Because every time it happens I feel like a little piece of me is dying.

Again and again and again.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers – (314)

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –
I’ve heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet – never – in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of me.
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