I can feel myself stuck in the fog. I know part of this is my body, the chemical soup which will slowly be adjusted by the new ingredients I’ve been adding. Part of it is fatigue, my first chance to sit still and catch my breath without distraction since last weekend.
Part of it is real, though. Most of it, today, is real. All week long I’ve had lots to worry about and think about and do. I’ve had opportunities to be reminded about the things and the people I have that I’m grateful for. I’ve been reminded of some wonderful things that I won’t lose. Even when those reminders were tied with the knowledge of new roles and limitations, they were good, and they left me happy.
Last night and today, though, the loss is really hitting me. The loss of what I hoped for, the loss of what I had (or thought I had), the loss of contact and comfort, the loss of synthesis. Last night and today, I’m realizing how much I’m really being forced to accept. I realize how big the hole is and how sad and disappointed and disappointing I feel. Even if we continue on as such close friends, today I’m feeling the boundaries inherent in that word, and I yearn for what lies beyond them that once seemed in my reach, sometimes even in my grasp.
It really, really, really hurts. And there’s nowhere to hide from it right now.