I live two lives…
In life number one I wish to be free.
I dream of waking up happy again. I hang out with friends, I meet new people, and I have dreams and goals.
I learn, I teach, I practice yoga, I travel, I laugh. I want to be loved. I want to have children. People are around me because they like me. I feel normal…
…and I feel guilty. I feel guilty for having these desires. I feel guilty for wanting my life to move forward, for even having a life to move forward with.
In life number two I battle.
I battle with dark clouds, arbitrary moments shrouded with grief, blurred by tears.
I go to sleep listening to a terrible tv show in the background, so my bed doesn’t feel so empty. I wake up in tears.
In this life I am married, and my love is tangibly unrequited.
In these moments I am an island…steps away from drowning in sorrow.
People are around me because they support me, because they didn’t know that they might encounter this, but they accept it.
In this life, I yell at my husband, I scream and stomp, and I ugly cry. In this life his clothes still hang in the closet, his car still in the garage. But no one is there to mow the lawn.
Please don’t judge me…
People make it better, but also worse. Everyone thinks they know the magical amount of time that one must grieve, wear black, or cry. I know that I will never stop crying, I know that I will never stop grieving, but I also know I need to seek happiness, achieve my goals, and have a family. I place enough expectations on my own life, behaviours, and actions. It is not helpful for me to encounter yours.
All the time I think of Kelly. What would he really want? What would he really want me to do?