When you walk around sad all the time, you forget that sadness can still sneak up and knock you over the head with a 50 pound bag of concrete.
Like today, standing in the middle of grocery store, feeling my breath come short and light because suddenly it occurs to me that I don’t know what to buy anymore.
How can I even explain that? I’m standing there in the chips aisle and I don’t have to buy the same bag of tortilla chips I’ve been buying for 11 years. I just stood there, staring stupidly at an entire aisle of snacks and my head starts spinning. If I don’t buy the chips, what am I doing here?
I can’t help but feel that’s some sort of metaphor for my life right now.
Or how about the sadness that creeps in when I’m sitting alone in my house in the evening, wondering why the quiet feels so oppressive when that’s all I’ve wanted for so long?
Divorce is so weird. One emotion tied to it’s polar opposite so inextricably, so violently that relief tumbles after anger followed by guilt and chased by grief and finally, at the very end, is the faintest echo of a love that used to consume me. And then it starts all over again.
Strange moments of tumult, buffeting me as I make my way from one day to the next. There’s no collar to flip up against the storm inside of me. Just a compass, and a whole lot of stubbornness.