Lesbian log twenty-one-zero-six-twenty-one
Hello, darkness, my old friend.
It’s been awhile since I’ve written on the blog. Weeks of trying to put one foot in front of the other, one breath at a time. Summer has greeted me with its warmth, its sunshine and promise of brighter days. Vibrant and resplendent greens spread before me, bursting with life, full and lush. Yet my soul is dimmed, cracked and parched. I’m frozen in time. The seasons blurred together in a thousand shades of muted grey.
So much, and yet nothing has happened.
The days I dreaded are now here. Friday, the herald of a home filled with boisterous boys, now looms dark and cold. The summer is a time to work extra hours to save for school, to spend weekends with friends, to live separate lives as young men, growing into their futures.
I sit in darkness. Waiting now for a rushed visit.
I knew it was coming. None of this is a surprise. The knowing, however, does not lessen the pain of the present.
The cold darkness has also morphed into a new silence I didn’t know existed. Seven months of limited contact with my ex, self-imposed in an effort to help him move on, to help him heal, has created a tragic void where friendship and companionship once flourished. It had to happen. A natural progression of separation. I knew it was coming. The knowing, however, does not lessen the pain of the present.
I know I have to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I know I must keep breathing, but sometimes the weight of grief makes it hard to draw in air and simply lift a toe.
There are moments of sunshine, reasons to hope, reasons to carry on, push onwards but they are forced to wade through a tar pit of despair, the sticky, suction of hopelessness clawing at my heels. It’s hard to believe anyone would want to try to pull me out, when like a wandering fool, lured by the fairy lights, I just slip back under again.
I keep hoping one day it will get easier. I keep telling myself, time. Time will see me through.
I keep watching. I keep waiting, but the present is a vortex of timelessness and my soul is tired.
In gratitude,
Marissa xo