Too Much to Hold

Today feels heavy in a way that words can’t seem to carry.

A family member died suddenly yesterday, and today I have to bring my late grandmother’s cat to the vet to help him pass. He’s suffering, and I know deep down that keeping him here would be selfish. But knowing that doesn’t make it easier.

I keep trying to find words to make sense of it all, but every time I reach for them, it’s like my mind turns to a blank canvas…quiet, colorless, and empty. I think it’s because it’s all too much to process at once. Grief stacked on grief. Loss layered over loss.

I don’t want to go to therapy today.

What can an hour do, really, other than unlock the emotions I’m not having to feel right now?

My reaction to loss is hard for me because I feel robotic. Almost like the only way I can function is through formality.

Sometimes I can feel the grief just under my skin, but not in my heart. It’s like this hum that comes up my throat every now and then but gets pushed back down and dragged to the back of my body. It bubbles up for no longer than a breath until it all explodes, and then it retreats again.

Part of me feels like if I let myself feel it, I’ll drown…and another part feels like I’m not allowed to grieve. That’s a complex internal battle that I may share one day.. but for now that’ll stay with just me.

Author’s Note:

I’m going to go to therapy. I am not the type to waste someone’s time by not showing up. I just…

Well fuck, I just don’t feel ready to bring in something so heavy… and I’m reminding myself that I don’t have to.

I can go in and just talk about something else.