Holding to Hope

Honestly, today’s been one of the worse days in this thing… Not because of the friend I have in town, but just because I seemed to be more emotionally…. Unstable? Raw? On edge? Something in that mix. I just felt like I was about to lose it all day long. Not sure in which way… But lose it. Maybe crying uncontrollably, or screaming, or hitting my couch or walls, or…. I don’t know. I didn’t. Maybe I should.

That I should is not outside the realm of possibility. I don’t do that. Lose it. Never. I don’t know how. I’ve gotten close during this… In my car after the wedding… At his house one night, lying on his bed… But I always get to the point where I can calm myself down. Where I can get myself back under that iron tight grasp. Keep control.

I don’t remember a time when I’ve EVER lost it. My mom might… She saw me as a kid… And I think every kid loses it sometimes… Right? But as long as I can remember, I have always held on to logic… To practicality… To control.

I think that might be because I’m scared of what I could do. Or say. It might be because I don’t trust anyone enough to let them see me like that… And being alone and losing it is too risky.

Maybe it’s because I just don’t have it in me. I hurt more than I thought it was possible to hurt, but I can’t see a benefit, really.

Except… Maybe it would be a release. Maybe I would stop being nauseated all the time. Maybe I’d stop getting tension headaches… Stop being so shaky that I’m a total klutz… Maybe.

Or I’d just do something stupid, harm myself or something else, and go back to being shaky and tense and nauseated in a few minutes anyway. It seems like that’s too big a risk right now.

So I cry. I sob. I get some of it out. And then I cap it off and just feel bad. Sad. Hurt. Betrayed. Guilty. Defeated. Relieved. Lonely. Abandoned. Lost. Helpless. Confused. Wishful. Hopeless. Full of regret. Ashamed. Glad I had the time I did. Lucky. And any number of other things. They cycle through. Kind of in an endless random progression. Peppered throughout with numb.

I hurt for his sister. His parents. His life-long friends. I can’t imagine their pain, and I wish I could help them. I can’t. Just as they can’t help me.

But… Actually? You know what? We can help each other. We have been. By bearing witness. By talking. By being there with each other and FOR each other. By remembering him… The good and the bad. The fun and the painful. By treasuring him in his entirety.

We help each other, and we’ll eventually each get to a place where we can think on him and smile, because we loved him. Where it doesn’t always and immediately cause pain and hurt. We’ll get there.

At least, I hope we will. Because this? Where I am… Where I’m sure they are? This isn’t sustainable. This will drive me mad. It’s too big. Too painful. Too much.

So I have to get there. I have to believe I will. And I believe they will too. Hope is all I have right now. So I’m going to hold onto it with everything I am.

Written 3/9/2014

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