This is about that time of the year when I typically start freaking out.
I do this internally, unconciously, and regretfully. I should always see it coming, but I confess that I choose to close my eyes.
I sense its approach. I am the deer who freezes when the hunter grows near.
I know it’s coming.
One more year has almost gone by. In this year I have experienced great joy, closeness, laughter, and the chaos that accompanies a family in its learnings and growings.
Both stillness and movement bring me to a place where I feel real and alive and good. Knowing this, I strive to make time for meditation and time for running.
But in this moment, my body reacts even before the mind. The anniversary of her leaving us — leaving me — creeps closer and closer until I am forced to admit that she is gone.
I understand the definition of post-traumatic stress. I really do.
Before my glass is empty, I long for another drink.
I wish I could learn to lean on others more than I do, but I cannot.