Thank god I'm not the only one.
It's not just me. I sputter and whine, and cry, and kvetch, and then I read. Responses to my posts. Posts from my comrades in DBL. Glow in the Woods.
And then I cry because I have felt all by myself in this terrible land. And I think, oh, I'm making too much of things. And I'm the only one who has not been able to get over this, or do that.
And I find that I am not. And that makes it just a tiny bit easier.
Over at GITW, the medusas have posed a question about what, if anything we get from the discussion on that blog. I have to say that while I don't always comment, I almost always read. And virtually every post has left me thinking. But sometimes it's too hard to gather the thoughts together. Sometimes it's too hard to respond with a voice. Sometimes it's enough for me to just listen, as I pour through the comments.
Actively responding sometimes brings me too deeply back into that world, as I walk the line between the living and the grief. I know, it is possible to grieve and live at the same time, but I am still working on that. Sometimes I look up from the computer and realize where I am, physically. Time has escaped, my mind has escaped, gone to a place few go.
I can honestly say that I have probably thought or uttered just every line on that list. Visiting the cabin, well, it's good to know it's there. It's good to be there, where sometimes I can speak, sometimes I can just listen, but I am always welcome, and people understand. Every once in a while out here I meet another DBM, someone a little further from the process, or someone who understands. They say something, like one of the lines from that list and I breathe. My heart skips a beat and I know that I am not alone.
And maybe, just maybe, I'll be okay.