Almost three years and here I am-
still on the edge.
On the edge of an anxiety attack.
On the edge of the cliff of deep sorrow and darkness that threatens to swallow every thing bright in my life.
On the edge of giving up and giving in.
On the edge of turning my back on every one and every thing.
On the edge of losing hope.
On the edge of deciding that this fight is really not worth it,
that there is nothing left to give,
that I will absolutely never survive this pain and loss.
Some days I manage to take a few steps back.
I might go a week or more and almost forget the edge is there.
And then one conversation will catapult me forward to the brink again.
Shaking, crying, ragged gasping breaths.
So. many. tears.
I thought I had run out of tears.
Sometimes sadness is sanity. Tears are the reasonable response. Quickness to shush, shame, or fix them, can reveal a resistance to wisdom.