The days have become mostly standard. I seem to no longer be on tenterhooks all the time. There are certainly times when I’ll think of something, see something, hear something, and cry. And I’m still pretty far from doing well. But it feels mostly like I’m on an even keel.

Except I feel like at this point, that even keel may well be just me white knuckling it. I’m steady. But underneath, I get the feeling I’m hiding the truth from myself. That if I were to allow myself to actually feel, I’d… well… FEEL.

Because this even keel is pretty much emotionless. It’s steady and smooth and blank. It’s safe.

Every once in a while, I feel it tremble. I feel the tension in my body from holding everything in check. I remember that my lunch today was a couple spoonfuls of peanut butter, and that my stomach had some mean things to say about that.

Most the time, I don’t feel bad. I don’t feel like I’m under duress. I actually kind of feel ashamed for not feeling like I’m struggling most of the day. I feel like I’m getting over it too quickly.

But I’m not. Not remotely. Remember the peanut butter?

I’m not crying, though. I’m not shaky anymore. Which means I’m fine, right? (“No,” the voice of reason and intelligence in my head says, “No, not even close.”) But trying to convince the rest of my brain of that is like trying to convince a flower that it shouldn’t grow.

This is such an odd process. So grueling. So unknown. Who knows? Tomorrow is a different day. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be crying all day. Maybe I’ll be unreasonably angry. Maybe I’ll just feel it where today I didn’t. Maybe not.

For now, I’ll enjoy the calm, I guess. Always feeling like the other shoe is about to drop, but not knowing whence it will come.

Even keel, ma’am.

Written 3/13/2014

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