Friday, December 07, 2012
one step at a time, straddling grief
When in doubt of what next to do, write. And so, here I turn.
It feels like I am rebuilding a derelict castle, but with granite bricks covered in moss and mud, misshapen. Each time I lay part of a wall, a storm will come through, and it will be knocked down. But I continue.
Will I ever feel real progress towards getting functional, normal, again? The adage, "One step at a time," is apt, because sometimes even taking that one step is so fucking difficult. As if it were one step while in quick sand, black gold, or underwater.
Tonight, I rest, because I feel too off-kilter, in grief, that I cannot make that one more step forward. I admit defeat. Tomorrow I will try again.
On good days - maybe tomorrow will be one - I manage to walk, albeit in clumsy near-falls kind of way. Like trudging along river banks of silt and wet. That is good enough for me.
I take my grief to bed now, and hope it leaves and does not stay the night.
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