WHAT AWAITS ME

I am tired. Physically and mentally worn. I first dreaded the long vacation days without work, but I'm now grateful for them and am putting them to good use. I come up with all types of errands, and stay out for hours. I clean and redecorate feverishly, and drop into bed in the early hours of the morning.

I'm exhausted.  From the abuse. From the heavy undercurrents of grief tugging at me, wanting to pull me under. From the busy-ness that comes with the Holidays. But I don't want to have time to think and feel anything. I don't want to slip under. If I keep moving, keep doing, I won't have time to think or feel.

It's a black place that awaits me otherwise, and I don't want to go.