Waking up begins with saying am and now. For the past 8 months, waking up has actually hurt. The cold realization that I’m still here slowly sets in. I was never terribly fond of waking up. I was never one to jump out of bed and greet the day with a smile like Jim was. I used to want to punch him sometimes in the morning he was so happy. I used to tell him that only fools greet the day with a smile, that only fools could possibly escape the simple truth; that now, isn’t simply now. Its a cold reminder one day later than yesterday, one year later than last year, and that sooner or later, it will come. He used to laugh and give me a kiss on the cheek. It takes time in the morning for me to become George. Time to adjust to what is expected of George and how he is to behave. By the time I’m dressed and put the final layer of polish on the now, slightly stiff but quite perfect, George. I know fully what part I am supposed to play. Looking in the mirror staring back at me isn’t much so much a face, I see an expression of a predicament.
Just get through the goddamn day.
A bit melodramatic I guess. Then again, my heart has been broken, and I feel as if I am sinking. drowning. can’t breathe.
Yes please! Not in the sense of someone not wanting wake up, I would never encourage anyone to feel like that. Rather, when I heard this, I hadn’t talked to anyone about the thoughts inside my head. So when hearing those words coming out of someone else’s mouth it was, in itself, therapy. Knowing that I wasn’t a l o n e.
c r a z y.
i n v a l i d.
I don’t know, maybe I have a validation problem. Like my feelings are only valid unless someone understands it. But sometimes, all you need to hear is someone say
“m e t o o”
And let me tell you, that is the most powerful two words anyone can say.