An Illness Of Isolation

The emptiness is always at the ready. All I need is just one small reminder that people struggle, people I love, strangers, anyone.

You see, I recognize struggle.

When I see it I am reminded of the emptiness I have known. The churning in my gut. The dim lights, the sadness, the heavy legs.

The emptiness is an illness …. an illness of isolation.

I contorted my life to try to avoid the agony, the moment of collapse when my knees hit hard, my teeth jarred loose, head in my hands, mouth distended, screaming a silent scream …. that moment when grief overtook me. All was crumbling and I was involuntary suffering itself, wailing to lost gods.

This has happened more than once. I have had to face many hard truths and I doubt that I could have handled it if they all arrived on the same night.

These days, I am glad to be alone. I have learned that burdens cannot be shared. Burdens shared are burdens doubled, and who wants that?

Once again, grace and gratitude rule. Amazing.

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