Everything is a fight, a battle that began with his last breath, without me even being aware of it. I was at home, having a meal, planning the next day, breathing, while he lay cold in a hospital bed. That day my world crashed around me, and all attempts to rebuild it are proving futile.
I don’t know how to do things without him. He was my sounding board, he was the optimist who thought anything can work no matter how bad the situation. Without him, I am scared. There is always ‘what if’ hanging over my head and I am taking the road with the least risks. When he was around, I could jump from cliffs knowing he’ll make sure I land okay. Now I tip-toe worries about loose stones that could trip me.
Not that it’s helping. I’m still struggling with everyday things – things that break, malfunction, or cease to exist. I am struggling with constant physical pain that doesn’t go away and makes everything that much more difficult to answer. I am struggling with this difficulty that I have in breathing; the moments that make me run away and hide.
I’m not good with uncertainty and right now nothing is certain. Will I be able to have his baby? Will I have enough money to pay my rent? Will I every learn to live without him? Will I turn into this angry, bitter person who just snaps at the world because they have what she couldn’t?
I’m already tired of fighting everything, this daily struggle of maintaining sanity. I think it’s time to get some peace. Perhaps that counsellor was right.