Listen, I dunno who needs to hear this right now, but pain really does demand to be felt, and dare I say that internalized pain that doesn’t hurt you anymore is actually dangerous.
(“Feel The Pain Then Get Off The Train“)
Six years ago today at this very moment, the lifetime of internalized trauma that had likely been traveling through untold generations of his family came barreling down a set of tracks that claimed my husband’s life because he was never able to lose all the luggage he’d been carrying with him since the day he was born.
Through it all, though, I can honestly say that while there was once a time in my life when I truly didn’t know when the pain was gonna stop, I just kept working on it, all the while never knowing when the next time the floor was gonna drop again. I stepped gently … softly … carefully.
At so many points, and even still sometimes on a day like this, managing all these emotions has just felt like putting up sails in a storm and that the many efforts I’ve extend keep toppling me over. And while it’s true that all ways that I once used to cope did only make me feel worse, those days are long gone. God? How do I maintain all this control? In the hardest of times, I just stay in my body … see through my own eyes … feel my beating heart … and breathe. Breathe. BREATHE!
If I’m lucky, The Sun will rise again tomorrow, which is strange, of course, since, no, I won’t be the one doing that. Even still, and now that my seas are mostly ever calm, my sails will never be torn again from my own stubborn desire to have them raised.
Maybe what happened six years ago this night was always meant for me. Maybe tomorrow morning will be, too. Either way, I’ll remain steadfast in my roll … my control … the only thing I ever really need to do is just … breathe.
The Diary Of My Perfection 
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