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Comment by morgan on January 4, 2017 at 1:53pm

Alice, thank you for hearing my pain.  I am drowning in my sorrow and you couldn't have had any better perspective than saying that after four years if I am still so stricken then I will always be.  That truly is a big part of it. I cant believe this can still be.   Of course tied to that is having to endure/manage the actual physical/emotional repercussions of feeling so bad after so long.  Probably having to understand/admit that this might still be early in my grief is unimaginable.  

And I feel like a wild banshee in a jungle chasing a cheetah because I keep piling distractions on my plate in order to avoid the pitfalls.  I chase them in order to distract myself because if I don't then I have nothing to occupy my mind and then the hole engulfs me.  Even with that pursuit the hole engulfs me when it feels like it.  

You have great wisdom when you speak of the floating layer.  And the lack of access is slowly but surely killing me.  It is not every moment of every day but it is enough where I am wondering who buried who.  

Please know your note has helped.  I am out of bed on my way to try and get something done for the day.  Thank you from the bottom of my broken heart.

morgan

Comment by morgan on January 3, 2017 at 9:38pm

I'm lost.   What's the point?  I've tried so hard to prop myself up and tell others that there is some sort of way to survive this grief.  The roller coaster of having a few moments of heightened distraction, of pushing (forcing) myself and then the crashes of digging furiously as fast and as furious as I can into the hole of oblivion, crying, painfully, desperately has got to stop.  I don't know how but this is not doable.  This is not what is intended to be.  I cant believe this is what I am destined to love until the unknown day of my release from this torture.  This cannot be real.  It cannot be true.  Something is wrong with the universe.  Something is terribly terribly wrong.

Comment by rachel_micele on December 27, 2016 at 2:11pm

It's ok Alice on the "poor correspondent". For normals their excuse is life gets busy; for us life got buried. For some reason that makes me think of Morgan's expression in pushing the mountain around the room. But at any rate, I'm glad you're still on the site and corresponding here. 

The remaining years ... I had a birthday earlier this month and while on one hand I hated the day and just wanted to forget about it, on the other hand I found relief that I am one year closer to my death. But it pales in comparison when I look at how many years long that yellow brick road could be for me ... I told my therapist the lights are on but no one's home. But I realize the more accurate statement is the lights aren't even on. I really feel like a hollow, cold, empty shell. And phantom pains - deep, slicing phantom pains.