I feel calmer now: drained and tired from being all cried out. Rain is hammering my windows with surprising force, and I relate to the intensity of Mother Nature’s tears. A few hours earlier, my own sorrow was equally raw.
I am relieved it’s a new day. Yesterday was so intense, I felt as if my mind was ready to shatter into microscopic pieces, never to be whole again.
I had to shut down my Facebook account: seeing the happy statuses of all those I have ever known only served to inflict further wounds. My life is so different to all those I have ever befriended. They have children, lovers, husbands, wives, careers, accolades, property, good health and – best of all – value. They are worthy.
My life has shut down: switched off by a chain of events triggered by one man. Were he a God, I wouldn’t feel so bad. But he’s just a man. The overwhelming grief his actions have triggered is frightening. The ferocity of this grief is yet more terrifying. It is all-consuming, suffocating and binding. There is no release, only suffering.
I am calmer now – no more tears to drown my face – but the grief still has me bound within its shackles. I wear a straight-jacket despite not being committed to the loony bin.
Freedom is a privilege – both physical and emotional – and, as depicted by history, struggle always precedes the attainment of freedom. I hope my struggle will bear equally liberating fruit.