At the moment, the title of this post and the accompanying image say it all. I’m raw and reeling and still in the critical care unit of a hospital that has now saved my life twice in as many weeks. I have so many thoughts and things to relay that I can’t make a proper post right now. I’m an emotional mess, I’m lost, and I don’t know how to do this any more. I’ve written notes, I’ve thought thoughts, I’ve cried more tears than I’d care to admit. In a few days, if I’m still on the planet, I’ll probably write a few long, and very therapeutic (for me, most definitely not you guys) posts. Until then, know that I’m alive. And that I no longer know how I feel about that fact. Which means I don’t know how to feel about myself. I am angry at my body for the importance of the moments it has taken from me, I am angry at the world, I am angry at myself, and behind that anger is whatever on earth you call what I am actually feeling. They saved my body, and that’s where they stopped. I’ve no idea where I went or where I am.
Right now I’m so far from alright that all the money in the world couldn’t buy me a taxi fare back to there (yet an ambulance managed to get me here in minutes).
I’ll post soon.
No way but through is what I know I should put. But I can see no way right now.
I can see no way.