At Some Point, the Dam Breaks

I think I’m broken. Or, at least, a part of me is.

I keep finding myself in situations where it feels as though I’m standing in quicksand. Where the weight of the universe is pulling me down, despite my great efforts to keep my body from going under. But no matter how much force I exert, I can’t. My strength just isn’t enough.

And that kills me inside.

Because I should be able to keep myself afloat. And I should be able to keep myself from falling apart. Hell, I’ve been doing it for the last five years so at this point, I should be a freaking pro.

But still, his death continues to take my breath away and stop me in my tracks.

Every day, I wake up reminded that he’s gone, and of the events that followed that have been the source of so many of my scars. It’s like a switch I can’t turn off.

Believe me, I know that grief doesn’t just disappear. And I know that the pain of losing someone you love can never, truly, be healed, even with time.

And, in my case, a shitload of therapy.

It’s just that a small part of me wishes it would.

Because, right now, I can hardly breathe without the heaviness of his death pounding on my lungs.

The images that have been running through my mind are daunting. I keep seeing my father’s casket being lowered into the ground, and I can’t stop hearing my mother’s sobs, crying that she didn’t want to leave him behind. It’s as if they are on a continuous cycle inside of me, going on and on and on without any breaks.

Five years (or almost) is a long time to mourn someone. Half of a decade of asking God why me? Why my family? What did we do to be put in a constant position of survival? And half of a decade spent not getting a single answer to any one of them.

His anniversary is coming up at the end of the month, and it’s hitting me harder than I anticipated. Which is normal. And in a lot of ways, expected. But I am a fairly hardened individual who doesn’t really allow herself to embrace all of her emotions, even though she recognizes that the dam always breaks at one point or another.

It’s just that if I do fall apart, how long is it gonna take for me to pick up the pieces? Will it be swift? Or will it lead me straight into a battle I’m gonna have to fight to win?

And do I even have the strength for the latter?

Maybe.

But just because you’re strong doesn’t mean that you wanna have to be. And just because you’re resilient doesn’t mean that whatever it is you went through didn’t hurt.

Look, at the end of the day, I know I will get through this hurdle. I’ll figure it out.

I just might accumulate a few more broken pieces along the way.