One Day at a Time

The last few days have been so crazy. I have a whirlwind of emotions swirling around inside of me. One thing I can truly say is that I am not happy yet. I know it takes time and effort and if anyone can do it, that person is me, but I still feel numb most of the time.

I left home to heal. To gain strength and feel like myself again. But I don't. Not yet.

I was invited to leave the island with some friends last night to attend an event. I even went so far as to go find something to wear. But in the two hours we were shopping, I felt like my head was going to explode if I didn't get out of the place we were in. I just ended up frustrated and scared and confused.

By the time we got back, I had already decided not to go. There is no way I wanted to be around a huge crowd of people right now. I can feel them pressing in on me, sucking all of the oxygen out of the space I am in. So instead, I took a nap. I watched a movie. I went back to bed.

I'm still having nightmares. I wake up in the middle of the night and reach next to me, only to realize that my comfort, my whole world has disappeared. And then I start to cry. Sometimes the tears just stream down my cheeks as I remember what is now my reality. Sometimes my body is wracked with sobs. But always, I remember. I see. The visual evidence of the last few weeks is etched into my retinas. I see it when I wake up. It keeps me from sleeping at night.

And it hurts. The pain is almost unbearable at times. Sometimes, I blame myself. But I realize that it isn't my fault. What happened to me. All of it. None of it. The people who care about me didn't really see the signs either. I knew something was wrong. In my heart, in my head, I just knew. In all aspects of my life.

But this changes nothing. All I can do is take it one day, one hour, one minute at a time. I know, inside, that I am a good person. She's still in there.

I pray. For strength. For the ability to forgive. For my children and my family. For my health and well being. For the nightmares to stop. But I don't pray for the ability to wake up and realize this has all been a dream. Because that will never happen.

Yesterday morning I woke up. I went for a run. I did yoga on the beach. Today I can feel it in my body. The solid proof that I am doing something to recover. Maybe I will just stay in my cocoon for the next two weeks. I don't know how this process is supposed to work. But little by little, I am making an effort. For myself first. For everyone else second. The way it should be.

But I am taking it one day at a time.