I haven’t cried since Saturday. I’ve pretty much been on a “once a day” minimum for the past month. So I’ve been feeling pretty good about my tear free days. I had a fun chat with Ann this morning talking about our girls’ weekend to see the Lion King. We talked about the upcoming Les Mis. We chit chatted like we normally do on any given day.
I got home from work and received an email from my beautiful friend. She’s been checking in on me every few days and has given me great perspective, comfort and hope. She asked how I was doing and I told her I was fantastic! That things seem to be on the upswing. That I’m beginning to heal and feel almost normal.
How does it happen that less than half hour later I’m sobbing on the treadmill? And it’s not from the fatigue in my legs as I keep time with the rhythm of the treadmill. It’s from this overwhelming pain that wracks my entire soul. And I can’t do anything to stop it or make it go away. So I run and sob. And sob and run.
Mark wraps his arms around me and asks if I know that he loves me. I nod because I can’t speak. He tells me that he wishes he could say that it will all work out in the end, but he can’t because he doesn’t know how it will play out. He can’t promise me that everything will be alright like he as been able to do previously. All he can do is hold me and let me know that he is always here for me.
After the tears have dried up the guilt hits. This guilt that says I have no right to feel this much pain because there are others who have been hurt so much worse!! So much more deeply. Others who have more of a right to have spontaneous meltdowns. Others whose whole worlds have been turned upside down. And somehow by me feeling this pain I’m taking away from what they have more of a right to feel. And the guilt lingers.