The tears hadn’t stopped since the day I found out. It had been an uneventful typical Friday evening, arriving home from a typical, uneventful day at work. At first I was doubtful, bouncing denial around my head as I typically would about any unexpected news as I carried on, doing things I would typically do.
Then came fear.
...
It feels as if a pebble the size of my palm –smooth and cool, had settled heavily into the curve of the pit of my stomach since Friday. A sense of loss, an enveloping sadness that I had to put on a brave face and do what is rationally right and good for me, and fear – a fear that the man I imagine the rest of my life with wouldn’t see through my facade and walk away. Buddha said focus on the present. All I hear is the pounding of my heart, my breath caught under the tacit weight of the pebble. In my present, beyond the warm streams of light through the blinds resting on my closed eyelids, I see nothing at all.
...
I didn’t expect it to hurt this much. I didn’t expect the trauma to nestle itself so snugly inside of me. I didn’t expect you to assume it meant nothing to me and turn away, so angrily, leaving me reeling in the dust of the storm’s aftermath alone. I had thought I would be o.k.
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